


Eggs

by FalconLux



Series: W.I.P. Collection [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Harry, Gray Harry, Harry-centric, Kinda, Like really slow, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mpreg, Sane Voldemort, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Work In Progress, rating may increase, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21607906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconLux/pseuds/FalconLux
Summary: Sirius was dead and it was at least half Harry’s fault. He’d once again been abandoned at Privet Drive, but he didn’t even care this time. He deserved worse than that.Unfortunately, right in the middle of his months-long sulk, something impossible happens that changes everything.What the hell’s a male, mammalian virgin supposed to think after laying a pair of eggs?Well, if that male, mammalian virgin happens to be an orphan desperate for love, acceptance, and family, the course of action is pretty obvious.ANYTHING IT TAKES TO PROTECT THEM....A story of family, love, growing up, and all the things you never notice when you can’t see past the blinding Light to the shadows lurking between you and the Dark.[This is a Work In Progress. It is not finished. It may never be finished. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.]
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort | Tom Riddle
Series: W.I.P. Collection [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/398941
Comments: 379
Kudos: 2213
Collections: Inspiration, Interesting_Prompts





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> You’re all so patiently waiting for me to update Somnus, and I’m doing this. I know. I’m sorry.
> 
> So here’s what happened. I was reading something with MPreg and then I got a little baby fever and I really needed to write about Harry with babies and…
> 
> …tada!
> 
> (…babies are cute…)

Harry stared in a kind of fascinated horror at the pair of eggs settled together in the middle of his flat pillow at the Dursleys. There were so many things wrong with this situation. First, he was human, and humans didn't lay eggs. Second, he was male and males didn't have babies. Third, he was a virgin and therefore shouldn't be reproducing in any form.

The explanation for this undoubtedly lay in magic. More specifically, the Department of Mysteries. Merlin knew what kinds of crazy magic and artifacts he'd been exposed to while he was there. He didn't remember touching much of it directly, but there had been that room filled with fog that he'd chased Bellatrix through. And _that_ thought made him wonder if Bellatrix was laying eggs today, too. The concept of her reproducing was a disturbing one.

Harry couldn't help but lift a hand and stroke it gently down the side of one egg, then the next. They were reptilian eggs, he'd already determined. The shells were soft and leathery rather than hard and brittle. Each one was an oval about as long as his hand and slightly wider. He'd woken up to the strangest feeling and he hadn't experienced much rational thought in the half-hour that followed, going completely on instinct as he... _laid_ two eggs out of his _butt_. 

Thankfully, they'd come out pretty clean, but he'd still rubbed them down with an old t-shirt before placing them carefully in the center of his pillow. It was only then that he'd taken a mental step back and realized what the hell had just happened.

An unexpected swell of emotion filled his chest as he gazed at them. He didn't know if that was weird or not. Technically these were his babies, after all. Then again, they were eggs, and he had no idea if they'd even look like real babies. For all he knew, they could come out as snakes or turtles or something.

None of that logic affected the emotion. Or the need to protect them.

He supposed this must be the maternal instinct in action.

Or... paternal?

Yeah, definitely paternal. He didn't care if he did give birth to – or _lay_ them, or whatever – he still considered himself male.

He groaned almost silently at the pointless mental debate. Though taking the female role in producing offspring was challenging his masculinity, it hardly mattered at the moment. What mattered were his precious eggs, those innocent lives, and what he was going to do about this. 

Honestly, the only adult he may have trusted with this was Sirius, and he was dead because Harry had been stupid and rash. He couldn't take that kind of chance with his babies. He liked Remus well enough, but the man hadn't tried to contact him at all since Sirius died, so Harry suspected the man hadn't felt that close to him. Certainly not close enough for this. He could contact Dumbledore, but that arsehole had never protected Harry, why should he do more to protect these really unconventional babies?

The Wizarding World in general, despite being made up of magic and all the strangeness that came with it, they weren't too good at accepting anything not like themselves. As was evident by the way they treated goblins and house elves and werewolves and every other magical creature that Harry had ever heard of. They tolerated the ones who kept themselves away from wizardkind, but they generally didn't seem to really treat any of them as equals.

Would they think his babies were monsters? Would they think he was some kind of creature to be able to reproduce like this?

 _Was_ he some kind of creature? It was possible, right? He'd heard about certain creatures that seemed entirely human until they reached their age of majority and then their magic stopped suppressing it. Or something like that. He didn't really remember everything Hermione had said on the subject as he'd been playing chess with Ron at the time. Maybe _that's_ what was happening to him. Maybe some dormant creature genes had come out in him and everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries just kind of accelerated the process.

Not that that explained why he'd laid eggs without having sex. He remembered from primary school that some non-magical creatures could reproduce asexually — everyone had snickered because the word had “sex” in it — but he had no idea if there were magical creatures like that.

These weren't questions that he could answer now, though. He needed to stay focused. If he could come up with the idea of creature heritage, he knew that the rest of the prejudiced world could and probably would come to that conclusion, and if he was a creature, he may not have any of the basic rights afforded to wizards and witches. The Ministry had been trying to toss him in Azkaban all last year, or get him expelled. Harry didn’t know what Hogwarts rules were regarding creatures, but it wasn't hard to guess that they weren't favorable considering that he'd never heard of a creature openly attending the school. There was Hagrid, but Harry suspected he'd been like Remus, pretending to be a normal wizard, when he attended. If popular opinion asserted that Harry was a creature, he'd be kicked out for sure.

And then what of his eggs? Even if he was allowed to continue Hogwarts, surely they wouldn’t let him bring his eggs and care for them there when they hatched.

He almost thought he could take this to Mrs. Weasley, who was the best mom he knew and the closest he'd ever come to having one, but... But all the Weasleys were really anti-Slytherin. What happened if his babies did turn out to be snakes? Surely, she wouldn't try to protect them anymore then.

Harry curled himself onto a ball on the floor next to the bed and buried his face in his knees, tugging on his hair and groaning softly. This was an impossible situation with no solution.

Several minutes of self-pity eventually gave way to exhaustion and the realization that accepting defeat wasn't an option.

He couldn't just turn his back on his babies. What would happen to them if Harry threw himself on the mercy of Dumbledore here? Best case scenario, they'd be given to Mrs. Weasley or someone to care for. Worst case, the Department of Mysteries would take credit for them and take them to study like one of their artifacts.

That was... unacceptable. The very idea turned his stomach, in fact.

However messed up this whole situation was, those eggs were his. They were his children. His family.

And he wasn't going to make the same mistake as his parents. He wasn't going to leave them alone in the world.

With growing conviction, Harry crawled back into bed, drawing the pillow-nest against his middle and curling around it before he pulled the ratty old blanket over all of them. He had no idea what was going to happen. He didn't know if his babies would be human or reptile or a combination of the two, though he figured he'd probably be able to communicate with them in Parseltongue if nothing else. He really didn't know what he was going to do with two babies if they were human. He wouldn't know what to do with _one_ baby.

Despite all that, he did know that these were his children and he was going to keep them safe if it killed him.

* * *

*** * * * ***

* * *

When morning rolled around, Harry packed his eggs carefully into the ratty old backpack that had belonged to Dudley at one point, using old clothes to create a padded nest for them inside. Then he let Hedwig out the window and told her to find him later. He tucked his wand into his pocket and headed out. Luckily, the Dursleys hadn't forced him to cook and clean like their slave since he'd told them about his murderous godfather after third year. They didn't know that he was dead, so they maintained their attitude of trying to pretend that he didn't exist.

It was late, him having slept in after the rather... stressful night. He was still sore from it, but not too bad, really. Certainly not as bad as he’d have thought given the size of those eggs. That seemed to reinforce the theory that he was a creature. That his body was actually made to do what had happened last night.

The Dursleys had already finished breakfast and Vernon left for work, so there was no one in the kitchen when Harry popped in and grabbed an apple and a banana for breakfast before heading out. He finished both fruits on the fifteen-minute walk to the train station, where he bought a ticket into London. He didn't have much muggle money left, but he had a little from his last trip to Gringotts. He'd got it thinking of buying himself some food over the summer.

When he reached London, he took a bus to Charing Cross Road and didn't have far to walk to reach the Leaky Cauldron. He tugged the hood of his jumper lower around his face and kept his head down as he moved quickly through the wizarding pub. A few taps of his wand and he was striding briskly down the Alley toward the bank, his backpack held carefully in his arms to ensure no one bumped into him and damaged his precious eggs.

In the bank, he approached the nearest open teller and leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice to request to speak to someone about the Potter account. The goblin eyed him suspiciously and stared for a long time at his vault key before handing it back and instructing him to follow another goblin into the back. He was led down a long stone corridor lined with identical doors, none of which bore name plaques or numbers or anything else to differentiate them. Eventually, they came to a stop in front of one door and the goblin opened it for him, then stood aside.

Harry hesitated a moment before stepping through. Inside was a pretty normal-looking office. Bookshelves lined the walls, cabinets covered the back wall. A goblin sat busily working behind a large marble desk. Not marble- _topped_ , but entirely carved of what looked to be a single block of dark brown marble. Harry was thoroughly impressed.

The goblin looked up at him as Harry swung the door closed. He was wearing a monocle of all things, which he adjusted as he studied Harry. “Mr. Potter. How can Gringotts assist you today?”

Harry blinked in surprise at being addressed politely. Perhaps it was only the goblins working the counters that were so grumpy? It wouldn’t be entirely surprising, honestly. If he had to spend his day dealing with rude, prejudiced witches and wizards, he’d probably be grumpy, too. “Er, hi,” he said awkwardly as he approached the desk but didn’t try to sit in either of the two heavy wooden chairs there. “I was wondering if you could give me an account of the complete Potter holdings?” He was hoping for one of two outcomes, here, honestly. First, that there was a livable house of some kind that belonged to him. Hopefully, something warded well enough that he could live there safely and not worry about being found. Second would be that he had enough money to buy a house and ward it if necessary. He’d known upon waking up this morning that he’d never go back to Hogwarts. That thought stung, but it just wasn’t feasible. At least he’d taken his OWLs so he could legally withdraw from the school. He wouldn’t have a lot of employment opportunities without NEWTs, but he’d figure out something if he needed to.

The goblin didn’t hesitate before hopping down from his chair. He opened one of the cabinets against the back wall, withdrew a black leather-bound book from what looked like an entire stack of them, then came back and placed it on his desk. He drew a small knife from a drawer in his desk and placed it atop the book. “Three drops of blood. Here,” he indicated the cover of the book.

Harry hesitated a moment, thoughts of blood rituals dancing in his mind, but of course, that’s probably exactly what this was. Not all blood rituals would be for nefarious purposes. He took a breath, then made a small nick in the tip of his left ring finger, hoping it wouldn’t be a finger he’d bump on anything too often. He squeezed out three drops of blood, then stuck it in his mouth to stem the bleeding, and wiped the knife blade against his pants to clean it completely. He wasn’t interested in leaving any extra blood here, thanks.

The goblin scraped a claw through the blood, then tapped twice on the cover. Harry felt something in the air tense a moment, and then suddenly release. The goblin picked up the book and Harry watched in surprise as it seemed to phase right through an identical book that had just been occupying the same space. The goblin returned the original book to the cabinet and came back to the desk to push the other toward Harry. “That is your copy. Was there anything else, Mr. Potter?”

“Uh, no. Thank you,” Harry smiled a little uncertainly as he scooped up the book.

The goblin gave a small nod, then went back to the papers that had been occupying him when Harry arrived.

Harry took that for a dismissal and left the office. The goblin that had brought him back was still standing outside the door and wordlessly returned him to the lobby.

Harry stared around the marble hall, mildly lost for a moment before he shook himself and approached a teller again. This time, he withdrew some muggle currency from his vault, then made his way back out of the bank. He left the magical world as quickly as he’d entered it, keeping his bag against his chest and his head down. 

He breathed easier once he’d returned to the muggle world and the anonymity it promised. He made his way to a nearby café and ordered lunch. He kept his bag in his lap while he read through the book as he ate. The book contained a complete accounting of his holdings. It was considerably less than he’d hoped. About four thousand galleons. It would have seen him through his school supplies and other things he might want until he graduated. Even a good six months on his own, or a little more if he was thrifty. Time for him to find a job and get making money.

It was not enough to sustain him for any length of time if he was paying rent, nor was it enough to buy a place.

Well, shit.

The book detailed the last eighteen years of transactions, largely due to the fact that there was almost nothing in the last fifteen years, just his yearly withdrawals before school since he’d turned eleven. There was a decent chunk of interest accrued over that time. Looking back, the account had contained nearly thirty thousand galleons eighteen years ago. Then, over the last years of his parents' lives, the money had drained rapidly with barely anything going in. He could only assume this was the expense of running and hiding for the first year of his life before they’d settled down under the Fidelius and promptly been betrayed. No wonder they’d been so desperate to settle down with their funds dwindling that quickly. The only property was Godric’s Hallow. The dwelling was marked as condemned, the property a simple village lot. It might be something to look into later, but it wasn’t doing him any good at the moment.

Harry spent a couple hours in the cafe, sipping tea after he finished eating and pouring over the ledger like it might start to look better if he only stared long enough.

Eventually, he had to leave. It was getting late and he had no place to sleep. He didn’t dare go to the Leaky Cauldron for fear it would get back to Dumbledore. He racked his brain for ideas, but the only one he could come up with was rather risky.

He didn’t think that Hermione would let him drop out of school. She’d undoubtedly consider it for his own good to tell on him so that Dumbledore could fix everything. Ron… Harry honestly didn’t know what Ron would do, but he’d already determined that he couldn’t go to the Weasleys. He didn’t think they’d take it very well that he’d started laying eggs. Sirius was gone.

That thought still sent a lance of pain through his chest and made his eyes feel hot, but he forced the thoughts away. He’d cried a river for Sirius already. He needed to move past it. For his babies, if nothing else, he needed to focus on the living. He’d always miss Sirius like a missing limb - something that should be there but wasn’t and ever would be again - but life would go on. He couldn’t just stop living because Sirius was gone. Especially not now that he had more than himself to worry about.

The only other person — or people — he could think of to help him was the twins. He’d noticed the new, brightly colored shop on Diagon Alley, though he’d not dared to even look in that direction too much at the time.

Of everyone that he knew, he thought the twins were probably the most likely to respect his wishes and be able to help him. They knew a thing or two about wanting things from life that no one else thought was good for them. And they’d never seemed judgmental. Except perhaps of those who followed authority blindly, like Percy. If anything, Harry suspected they’d respect him for his rebellion.

With no other options, Harry walked quickly by their shop once to see the time they closed, then returned to wandering the muggle world until it was nearly that time. He bought a meat pie from a street vendor and ate it slowly in a park before making his way back to Diagon. He slipped inside minutes before closing, then just loitered in front of a display as the other customers paid and left. Eventually one of the twins came over to tell him to leave, only to freeze when he saw Harry’s face. He was still for a beat, then he broke into a wide grin.

“Heya, Harry! What are you doing here?” he asked brightly.

Harry looked around furtively, but the shop was empty except for the other twin up near the registers. “I’m in a bit of trouble. I hoped you guys could help me,” he lowered his voice anyway.

The twin’s face instantly sobered and he nodded seriously. “C’mon upstairs, then. We’ll sort you out.”

As they slipped into the back, the twin sent some sort of signal at his brother, then he was leading Harry up a flight of stairs to a small but reasonably well-appointed flat. He sat Harry down on a sofa, then moved to make tea. By the time the other twin showed up, the first one had returned with three cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

Harry spared a moment to think that the twins had gotten at least one thing from their mum.

“What’s going on, Fred?” the second twin asked, finally giving Harry the identity of his escort.

Probably.

They seemed as serious now as Harry had ever seen them, but it still seemed possible they were switching their names, as they often did.

“Don’t know,” Fred shrugged. “Harry here says he’s in some trouble and needs our help. That’s all I’ve gotten out of him so far.”

They both turned to look at Harry then and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding himself that he needed these two. If they wouldn’t help him, he was looking at sleeping in an alley somewhere in the muggle world. He’d have money to buy food and clothes, but that might just make him obvious prey. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d do with two newborns — if they were human. Or well, humanish. He supposed no one born from eggs would ever be totally human.

“I, ah… I’m going to drop out of Hogwarts,” he decided to start with. Kind of test the waters before telling them everything.

There was a moment of silence and then Fred laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, “Good on you, Harry! George and I completely agree. NEWTs are for people who want to work in the ministry. Entrepreneurs such as us have no need of higher education!”

George grinned at his twin, then looked more seriously at Harry. “You don’t think Dumbledore will let you?”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t, but… That’s not all.”

“This about Voldemort?” Fred posed when Harry had been silent too long.

Harry huffed a humorless laugh. “For once in my life, no. It’s actually got nothing to do with him.” He sobered quickly and looked down at his bag where it was settled in his lap. He knew that he was going to have to explain everything, but he was afraid of how they might react.

“Erm… What do you guys know about… creature inheritances?” he asked uncertainly.

The twins exchanged a loaded look, then George spoke up, “They’re not as uncommon as you might think. Werewolves are the most common in Britain. Those born of at least one werewolf parent often gain an inheritance sometime between fourteen and eighteen.”

“There’s other kinds of weres too, of course, though they’re not as common in Britain,” Fred added.

George nodded at his twin and went on, “There’s also Valkyrie, Veela, and Vampires.”

“And loads more,” Fred put in. “Drake and Naga. Some of them are born as their species, but if it’s a few generations back, lots of times it doesn’t come out until sometime between puberty and magical maturity.”

“So what are you?” George asked.

Harry swallowed convulsively and looked down at his bag again, running his hands over it gently. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “But, er… Last night…” He looked back up at the twins’ open, curious faces and nibbled his lip a moment before sighing and opening the zip on his bag. He carefully retrieved the blanket bundle and opened it in his lap.

“Blimey,” he heard from George’s direction.

“So when you said trouble,” Fred put in after a moment of silence, “you meant ‘trouble’,” complete with air quotes.

George promptly kicked his twin in the shin, causing Fred to yelp and clutch at his shin while sending his brother a wounded look.

Harry barked out a quavery laugh, then quickly pinched his lips closed.

Both twins looked at him with compassionate smiles.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Harry admitted after a moment. “I wasn’t… erm, _with_ anyone or anything.”

“Not all creatures reproduce in the same way, Harry,” George offered. “Weres do it the old fashioned way, but vampires use a ritual combining their magic to create an offspring.”

“Little too dead to be making live sperm and eggs,” Fred put in.

“Veela need regular intercourse plus a mating of magic,” George continued. “I don’t know about all the others. The rarer species are a little more mysterious.”

“These are definitely eggs though,” Fred noted. “What kind of creatures lay eggs?”

George tapped his chin as he pondered that. “Valkyrie.”

“Bird eggs,” Fred pointed out.

George looked at the eggs on Harry’s lap once more, then nodded his concession.

“Drake,” Fred suggested.

George’s eyes lit up, “Hey, yeah. And Naga. And both of them-”

“-are parselmouths,” they finished together.

Harry blinked at them both. “Parselmouths? But I got my ability from Voldemort. When he tried to kill me.”

Both twins looked at him seriously. “You sure?” they asked in stereo.

Harry stared at them with mounting horror as he realized that, no. He was _not_ sure. In fact, he had no reason at all to believe that besides what Dumbledore had told him that one time in second year.

Merlin, how thick could he be? How could he never wonder? How could he never investigate it? He’d always counted on Hermione to be the one to wonder and research. And of course, she hadn’t because Dumbledore had said so.

“I’m an idiot,” he gasped, then gasped again because the last hadn’t seemed effective to get in enough air.

“Easy there, Harry,” a voice said right next to him and he looked to see that George had taken a seat there and was patting him on the back. “Breathe, Harry. Come on, now. Breathe with me.”

Harry followed his instructions and slowly began to breathe normally again. He hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating. When his breathing was calmed down, he put his face into his shaking hands and tried to wrap his mind around this.

“Well, you’re right,” Fred said after a moment, his tone unusually subdued. “You can’t go back to Hogwarts. If you’re naga or drake you won’t be able to pass for human too much longer.”

Harry looked up in shock, “What do you mean?”

Fred and George exchanged a look and it was George who continued. “With the inheritance, Harry, you’ll start to take on physical characteristics. Sharper senses, for one. And erm…”

“Slit pupils,” Fred added quietly. “Either like a dragon or a snake. Depending.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his blanket nest and hugged his eggs to his chest, silently reminding himself that he’d be okay. He’d get through this because he had to. Because he wasn't doing this just for him.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a creature, Harry,” George said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

“And we certainly have nothing against creatures,” Fred added.

“Others will though,” George said apologetically.

“What do I do?” Harry asked desperately.

“First thing,” George said briskly, “we need to change your appearance a bit. Hair color, eye color. Glasses. There’s some pretty simple potions for that, don’t worry. I can brew ‘em up tonight.”

George soon set off to do that and Fred settled Harry on the sofa with a pillow and blanket.

Harry didn’t protest. He was beyond exhausted. He kicked off his shoes, then curled up on the couch with his blanket nest containing his eggs clutched gently between his chest and the back of the sofa. He slept deeply and without dreams and woke to find himself momentarily confused as to where he was and what was happening. Then he registered the eggs he was still carefully clutching and the identical voices behind him.

Oh.

He sat up slowly, bundling his eggs into his lap. He stroked gently up and down the length of each as he turned his attention to the other occupants of the room. Fred and George were sitting at the kitchen table, both now looking at him.

“Morning,” Harry greeted, voice husky with sleep.

“Morning, Harrikins,” one of them, Fred Harry suspected, said jovially, though there was an undertone to his voice that wasn’t there before yesterday. A seriousness that hung over them and Harry’s situation.

Harry offered a weak smile and moved to join them at the table, keeping his eggs — still settled within the nest of his ratty old blanket from Privet Drive — in his arms. He settled them on the table in front of him when he sat, wrapping his arms loosely around them. His fingers lightly played over the leathery shells as he focused on Fred and George. The texture was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. “Thanks for letting me stay here, guys, but we all know I can’t stay much longer. This is probably the first place they’ll look for me after the Leaky.”

“Right you are, Harry,” the other twin — George, maybe — agreed. “Right to the point, our Harrikins. Well, first things first, then.”

“We thought now would be a good time to tell you that we’ve made you a third owner of the shop,” Fred started.

“Bit of a silent partner there,” George added.

“Least we could do after you gave us the funds to get started. Without your investment, it would’ve been at least another year before we could get into business.”

“Quite possibly two years.”

“Mind you, the profit margin isn’t too impressive just yet,” Fred warned. “Only a few hundred galleons a month and that’s got to split three ways.”

“Most of the income is going into the lease on the premises or into producing more inventory and new product research,” George explained.

“Still, it should be enough to keep a roof over your head.”

“If you’re not too picky about the roof in question.”

“That would be great,” Harry all but sagged in relief, molding his palms around each of the eggs as he leaned forward a bit. “But how will we keep the Order from finding me?”

“Well, you’ll need a new name, of course,” Fred started.

“And a new look,” George added.

“An all wizarding wardrobe from a secondhand store would be a good start,” Fred continued.

“And your hair and eyes and glasses. That’s easily done as I brewed the potions last night. The cosmetic potions are permanent until the antidote potion is applied. The potion that will cure your eyesight will only last twenty-four hours, but it just takes one drop in each eye, so that’ll last you quite a while,” George explained.

“And you will most likely start taking on some of your creature’s appearance soon,” Fred said more gently. “That’ll take care of any remaining chance of anyone recognizing you.”

Harry took a shuddery breath and stared intently at his eggs as he let that thought process. He was going to be a father to twins. He was running away from everything he’d ever known and striking out on his own. He was running away from the people trying to protect him from Voldemort. He was becoming a creature that would make him reviled by the majority of the wizarding world.

And somehow it was his imminently changing appearance that was hitting him the hardest. Maybe it was just hitting him first. Merlin knew he hadn’t fully processed the impending fatherhood yet.

“We probably shouldn’t involve anyone else in this,” George said after a moment.

“I know,” Harry sighed. “I already thought of that. Hermione would probably go straight to Dumbledore so that he could “fix” everything and I could still get my education. Ron…” he glanced up at them.

“Hard to say for sure,” Fred shrugged. “Our Ronnie’s a prejudiced one. Whether the fact you’re his best friend would be enough to overcome that…” he trailed off.

“Bill and Charlie wouldn’t care,” George said confidently.

“Don’t think Ginny would either,” Fred added.

“We definitely can’t involve Dumbledore,” Harry said quietly.

“No,” George sighed.

“Old man tries,” Fred offered.

“But he’s too focused on his Greater Good,” George put in.

“And it serves the Greater Good to sacrifice a few people every now and then,” Fred said gravely.

“People like me,” Harry observed. If ever there was a sacrificial lamb, it was definitely him. Every single year since joining Hogwarts he’d almost died and Dumbledore never seemed overly fussed about it. Then he told Harry about a prophecy saying that Harry has to kill Voldemort or die trying. The only way Harry could see himself winning that duel would be if Voldemort tripped on his big dramatic robes and cracked his skull open against a well-placed statue or something.

And as far as battle plans go, he didn’t think that one was very good.

“Well, we happen to think, when you start sacrificing innocent people to reach your ends, you might as well just starting using Black Magic and call it done,” Fred said forcefully.

Harry blinked at them both in surprise. He hadn’t really expected either of them to have anything to say against Dumbledore. Their family seemed so close to the man.

George shrugged in response to his look, but it was Fred who responded. “We’ve been doing some thinking about the war the last couple of years.”

“And we’re not saying that we don’t think Voldemort needs to be stopped,” George added.

“But we’ve noticed that Dumbledore’s not the beacon of Light perfection he pretends to be,” Fred concluded. “Can’t rightly say if there’s a better way that doesn’t support Dumbledore or the Ministry while still opposing Voldemort.”

“The more we learn about politics and laws in this country the more we hate it,” George said glumly. “It’s fucked up, mate.”

Harry swallowed the taste of bile as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out,” his voice emerged just above a whisper.

“Any plan for protecting yourself from ol’ snakeface?” Fred asked more lightly than the topic deserved.

Harry sighed heavily and hesitated before admitting, “No. I guess I’m mostly just hoping that if I withdraw from Hogwarts and kind of disappear, he’ll move on to other stuff. I mean I think the reason he’s so determined to kill me is because I’m kind of a symbol to his enemies. Boy-Who-Lived and all that.”

“Makes some sense,” Fred agreed.

“No guarantee it’ll work,” George noted.

“Well, hopefully, Voldemort won’t have any more luck finding me than the Order,” Harry shrugged.

“Right!” Fred said abruptly, jumping up from his chair and hurrying to the kitchen counter to collect four phials and an eye dropper bottle. “Eye color,” he placed one phial in front of Harry on the table. “Hair color. Hair length. Hair texture,” each label added another phial in front of Harry. “And finally sight correction.”

Harry looked at the collection nervously. “What am I going to look like if I take all of these?” he wondered.

George fielded the question, “I set the eye color for a dark blue. It’ll be much different from your light green. The hair color will be kind of light to medium brown and ashy, so it won’t stand out too much. The texture will just add some curl. Nothing dramatic, just enough to give it a wave to help you look different. The length will add about a foot of length, which we can cut down to a more reasonable length afterward.”

Harry choked down the potions one after the other. None of them tasted nice, of course, but he’d had worse. The transition wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. His scalp itched a little while his hair was growing, but none of the others actually felt like anything. When it finally stopped, Harry parted his overgrown fringe so that he could see and George conjured a hand mirror. Harry accepted it and gazed in disbelief at the picture presented to him. He really did look a lot different.

“Now let’s get rid of those glasses,” George interrupted Harry’s self-examination to hand him the last bottle complete with a dropper for a cover.

With a deep breath, Harry uncapped the bottle and removed his glasses. He leaned back and quickly put one drop into each eye before he could think about it too much. It wasn’t that he was against getting rid of his glasses — of course not. He just wasn’t real comfortable messing with his vision. What if it got worse, instead?

Luckily, that didn’t happen. The drops stung for about three seconds, then he blinked a few times and his blurred vision slowly settled into perfect, crystalline clarity. “Whoa,” he breathed, looking around the room. “I can see better than I can with my glasses.”

“Probably need a new prescription, then,” George pointed out.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He’d had those glasses and that prescription since starting primary, so it was actually exceedingly likely. He’d just never thought about it before. “How long will this last?” he asked, looking at the bottle.

“One drop for each eye every day. The bottle holds about three hundred drops. You’ll need another bottle about three times a year. Next time you need one, I’ll teach you how to brew it. It’s not that hard, but it’s safer to make it yourself. Half the reason that stuff isn’t more popular is because there have been a few cases of people’s vision becoming much worse or even going blind from using a shoddily brewed potion.”

Alarmed, Harry’s attention snapped back to George from where it had been wandering around the much clearer room.

“Relax, Harry. The potion’s working perfectly, so we know it was brewed perfectly. Though we knew that already because I brewed it and I don’t make bonehead mistakes like that. Snape never would have let me into his NEWT class if I did,” George said with a bit of mock offense.

“Oh. I didn’t know you took NEWT potions,” Harry admitted.

“He did, the bleeding masochist,” Fred nodded. “I escaped the dungeon bat after fifth year.”

“Right,” George nodded. “Because he only got an exceeds expectations on his OWL.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. E-On-My-Runes-OWL.”

George rolled his eyes and focused on Harry again. “Fred and I only got three OWLS each. Potions, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes,” he explained.

“It’s the only way we would have been allowed to drop the rest of the classes going into NEWTs,” Fred continued.

“And those were the only classes we really cared to continue.”

“Granted, Fred didn’t get to continue potions thanks to Snape’s perfectionist standards.”

“You only had two or three classes your sixth and seventh years?” Harry asked in surprise. He hadn’t known that either.

“Gave us more time to focus on product development,” Fred grinned.

“Huh,” Harry mused. Since deciding he’d have to drop out of Hogwarts, he’d really been convinced that he wouldn’t really have any prospects for employment better than stocking shelves and running a till in a shop or like scrubbing windows or something. But Fred and George had deliberately tanked half their OWLs when they were definitely smart enough to have passed most if not all. Then they’d dropped out before getting any NEWTs at all and they were running a successful business. Granted, Harry didn’t think it had been easy and they’d clearly been working toward it diligently for years, but… But there were options beyond following the rules and getting his NEWTs.

He could still learn. Books weren’t his thing the way they were Hermione’s but he did like to learn things and he wasn’t likely to have much on his plate in the near future whenever he wasn’t doing the parenting thing. And yes, he expected that to take up a lot of his time, but he’d have to do something other than that or he’d certainly lose his mind, right?

“Well, then!” Fred said brightly, “Let’s cut that hair, shall we?”

Turned out there wasn’t as much cause for fear as Harry had felt at hearing that statement. Molly Weasley had always done her children’s hair herself, Fred had explained, and they’d evidently picked up a thing or two. It didn’t turn out half bad. It was cut to shoulder-length with his fringe just covering his brow and completely and effectively concealing his scar. With the new wave that it had, this ended up looking kind of rakish instead of girly. He was surprisingly okay with it despite the fact that he hadn’t changed his hair since that one time Petunia had tried to cut it all off and it had grown back. It hadn’t grown at all since then until now. He hoped that his positive feelings toward the look would ensure that his magic didn’t decide to change it overnight.

“Well, we have to open the shop pretty soon,” George announced when Fred had pronounced Harry done.

Harry looked up and felt a curl of worry in his gut. His situation was loads better now than it had been yesterday. He had a new hairstyle, color, and eye color and he didn’t have to wear his glasses. Those changes would make it many times easier to move around the magical world and not worry about being recognized. He still didn’t have anywhere to sleep though, and no notion of how to change that.

“Harry, you are more than welcome to stay up here today. Help yourself to the food, tea, whatever. Have a nap. Have a bath. Have at it,” George offered.

“When we slow down this afternoon,” Fred added, “I’ll take you out to find you a new wardrobe. Then we’ll find you a place to live. I know of a guy who rents cheap flats. They’re nothing to write home about, but they’ll be in your budget. George and I were going to rent from him before we found a place for the shop that had a flat above it.”

Harry nodded, feeling relief sweep through his body, loosening the tension that had been building since he’d seen the extent of his bank account.

“Your job in the meantime,” Fred continued, “is to think up a new name for yourself. Something you can stand to be called maybe for the rest of your life. And something that is _not_ connected to who you really are. Harry Black or even Evan Black would get you found in weeks if not days. Pick something that no one could guess just by knowing your history.”

Harry swallowed uncomfortably. Honestly, the first thing that had come to mind when Fred had said a new name was Harry Black. He hadn’t even thought of Evan Black, though he might have given a little time. Picking something not connected to him that he could go by the rest of his life was daunting.

The twins disappeared downstairs while Harry pondered.

After a while, he made himself some tea and toast with jam. He spent a lot of time thinking of names in between his mind wandering to images of what his life was going to be like. Fred’s point about this new name maybe being his for the rest of his life had hit a little harder than Fred had probably meant it to.

When he was young, before Hogwarts and magic and everything, he’d always had this vague idea of his future where the Dursleys were no longer a part of his life and he had a job and made a comfortable living without kissing anyone’s arse like Vernon did with his potential clients and those god-awful dinner parties. Harry honestly hadn’t had a clue as to what he would do for work. Just that it wouldn’t be anything like any of the Dursleys. He’d always pictured himself living in the country or maybe a hamlet. Something way different than Privet Drive. He’d thought he’d have a family and he’d treat them the way a family should be.

Then there was Hogwarts and magic and Voldemort and the Ministry and Harry’s vision of the future had started to change. Half the time, he’d imagined that he’d not live to see adulthood. Other times, he’d had a vague idea of being an auror like his dad, but he’d never really thought it out. His career counseling with McGonagall last year had turned into a metaphorical catfight between her and Umbridge. He’d only put in a vague idea of “maybe an auror” and then the women had gone off and McGonagall had decided that he’d be an auror if it killed her, apparently ignoring the fact that he hadn’t even been sure it was what he wanted.

If he didn’t die, he’d kind of thought he’d get a job — maybe as an auror — and he’d probably have a family and treat them the way a family should be.

Now he was dropping out of school to start that family a bit earlier than planned. His only source of income was from an investment he’d made last year that he hadn’t really thought of as an investment at all, but as more of a gift — or just getting rid of blood money he couldn’t stand. As much as he wished that he could refuse the generous offer now, he knew that he couldn’t. He didn’t have that many options and he couldn’t live very long on what he had in his vault if he wasn’t bringing in any new money. Especially with two babies to feed, clothe, and whatever else babies needed. Assuming they’d even be human babies, which he still didn’t know.

Now his life was looking like… He still didn’t know for a job, but thankfully he had time to figure that out still thanks to the twins and their shop. The family was missing a partner for him, but that wasn’t the end of the world. That misadventure with Cho had demonstrated that he didn’t know dick about romance and should just leave it alone. At least for a while longer. He was going to get to have kids and raise them with love and acceptance and everything kids should grow up having.

It was exciting and terrifying all at once.

He’d have preferred to wait to have kids, honestly. He knew that he wasn’t ready. He was too young. He was still figuring himself out. But he had babies now and he had to deal with that. It wasn’t their fault that he wasn’t ready.

As he started to calm down, he finally took in the flat he was in. Though it wasn’t dirty, it was rather cluttered. Every flat surface besides the kitchen table was covered in strange bits and pieces that made it clear that even though the shop and workroom were right downstairs, the twins obviously liked to bring work home with them. The furniture was all in decent but well-used condition that they’d probably bought second-hand or dragged out of the Burrow’s attic. The color scheme was a strange combination of red, orange, brown, black, and everything else in smaller proportions. They’d probably charmed the big stuff to the colors they wanted, but not bothered with the rest.

He was careful not to touch anything that he wasn’t absolutely certain wasn’t pranked. Which, okay, wasn’t much. But he did manage to survive the day without getting exposed to a product they were working on or a prank they’d set for each other.

He spent a few hours running through names but always kept coming up with various combinations of the names of people he knew.

Eventually, he turned to the books — there really were a great number of books in the flat, though most were in piles rather than neatly lining shelves. He started flipping through books looking for names or even words that stood out to him. Using this method, he went through a large number of possibilities. Some were less objectionable than others. Knowing that he’d need the name this afternoon if he was going to rent a flat, he finally settled on Thomas Fell.

And yes, okay, so he did know a Tom. In fact, he knew two, but one wasn’t connected enough to him for anyone to think he might take the name and the other, of course, was Voldemort and no one who knew that man’s real name would guess for a second that Harry would take that name.

So it was perfect.

And Fell was just… Well, he was dropping out of school. Falling from grace…

Whatever. It sounded good with Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fred and George are REALLY difficult to write dialog for when the subject is no laughing matter. I'm not sure that I got it just right, but I tried.
> 
> This doesn't mean there won't be any more of Somnus to come. I just really need to get this out of my system first. I've got three chapters finished so far, so you'll probably see the next two in the next couple of days.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving!  
> And Black Friday.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late afternoon by the time Fred made his way upstairs.

Harry stood uncertainly from his place on the sofa, setting aside the book he’d been idly browsing to give him a break from thinking.

“Got a name picked out then?” Fred inquired.

“Yes,” Harry said slowly. “Isn’t it too late to go now?”

“We’re headed for Knockturn Alley, Harry. Most of it doesn’t even open up until mid-afternoon.” As he spoke, he moved across the room and slung his cloak around his shoulders, then tossed a second at Harry.

Harry snatched it out of the air easily enough and swung it on. “Why’s that?” he wondered as he moved to pack his eggs back into his bag.

“Fewer Light wizards and aurors and such wandering around later in the day. Most of it stays open most the night, too, since a decent number of the people that live and work and shop down Knockturn are actually nocturnal,” Fred explained while Harry was securing his bag across his front.

Harry paused at that. “Speaking of… do you really think it’ll be safe for me? Living down there, I mean? I can’t even use my wand for another year.”

“Blimey, Harry! Of course, you can use your wand,” Fred corrected quickly.

Harry blinked at the older boy. “How’s that, now?”

“So long as you’ve got at least three OWLs and are no longer attending Hogwarts, you can use your wand just like an of-age wizard. Just happens for most people, they’re of age before they leave school, so it’s so much semantics. Once you’ve officially withdrawn from Hogwarts, you’ll be able to use your wand.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as he processed that, feeling like he needed to question it, but no specific questions coming to mind. “Oh,” he finally managed, quickly followed by, “How do you know that?”

“Trust me, Harry,” Fred said rather bitterly, “George and I were thinking about dropping out well before we even took our OWLs.”

Harry gave him a curious and concerned look, but he didn’t think it was right to ask for details if Fred didn’t want to give them.

Fred shrugged a little uncomfortably, “I love my mum dearly, Harry, and I know she means well, but a man can only take so much criticism and censure before he gets desperate to get away from it all.” He ushered Harry out of the flat and down through the back door of the shop, clearly not inviting more conversation on the matter.

Harry couldn’t empathize. He’d have loved to have someone care enough to criticize his life choices, but he supposed maybe it was one of those grass is greener kinds of things. He made a mental note to encourage his children to follow their dreams, even if he didn’t understand them.

Harry automatically put up his hood as they left the small path behind the shop and entered Diagon Alley. George followed suit a moment later and they swiftly made their way down the Alley, past Gringotts, and into Knockturn Alley.

Harry was immediately on high alert, but he soon realized that it wasn’t as frightening as he remembered. Granted, that might have had something to do with the fact that he’d been only twelve and running around like a frightened rabbit. It wasn’t surprising that the predators picked him as easy prey and everyone instantly knew that he didn’t belong.

With a less jaundiced eye, the alley didn’t look all that different from Diagon, apart from the occasional hag hawking some rather creepy wares, lots of people concealed in heavy cloaks, and some of them with a little too thick of claws or hairy of knuckles peaking out of their sleeves. All of that was a lot less scary when he stopped thinking about them like the monsters of story and remembered that they were just people like him, trying to get by in the world. In their case, a world that hated and distrusted them for things beyond their control.

Fred led him into a shop filled with racks of clothes. A lot of it was in neutral or darker colors, though there were some brighter racks, particularly among the women’s clothes. The clerk was an old man with only a few strands of wiry, gray hair on the top of his head and a large mole on the tip of his nose. The man gave them a glance, then looked back down at the magazine he was reading in his lap.

Fred tugged Harry through the racks, pointing out tunics and trousers and boots and robes and cloaks and everything he could possibly need besides socks and pants, and he was buying those new. He could afford that and no one but him would see them. He’d gone long enough in Dudley’s stretched out, stained pants and Vernon’s old, equally stretched out and holey socks.

There were changing rooms in the back, so once his arms were filled with clothes, he headed back and made sure everything fit. The ones that didn’t fit, he hung on the return rack by the changing room and they immediately zipped straight back where they’d come from.

He chose a few more items and, once he was sure they fit comfortably, realized he didn’t have enough money with him to buy even half of it. He’d only taken out muggle money on his recent trip to Gringotts.

Before he could start to worry, Fred handed him a small pouch that, upon inspection, contained a larger-than-should-be-possible number of heavy gold coins.

“Before you complain, that’s your share for the month,” Fred said quietly. “There should be enough to buy this lot and pay your first month’s rent.”

Harry took a breath and swallowed down his pride enough to accept the money.

Fred nodded at him and Harry purchased the clothes, which were much cheaper than he’d been expecting, having only purchased clothes brand new and custom fitted from Madam Malkin before this. Fred shrunk everything down and Harry stuffed it into his pockets before they left the shop.

On the Alley, Fred led him in deeper where the alley narrowed and split into a warren of small tracks between multi-story buildings with no evident logic or even respect to physics. Balconies overhung the narrow streets and were often joined by bridges. At points, stairs carried up the outside of buildings. It was all rather ramshackle and half of it looked like it could collapse at any moment — and likely would if not for magic — while the other half was just dangerously narrow or worryingly angled.

When Fred had to yank him aside before he ran into someone, Harry forced himself to look at the street around him instead of the maze up above. He couldn’t help but think that the person who knew these paths well would have a massive advantage over, say, an auror giving chase.

Knockturn Alley truly was like another world from either the muggle or magical worlds that he’d known. And it wasn’t just the people. Part of it was undoubtedly the obvious poverty, but there was just something so… he didn’t even have a word for it.

Authenticity, maybe. Here, he didn’t see the medieval mixed with thirty or fifty years out of date that he saw in Diagon Alley. These people did not seem to be trying to adapt to the muggle world the way the more mainstream magical world was doing. This world was just magic. Some things looked like they’d have fit right into the medieval world, but that was probably because, with magic, it all worked as well as, if not better than, the muggle equivalent. Why make a magical version of a muggle contraption that worked no better than something that looked ancient?

Many businesses burned torches and oil lamps outside their entrances while others just had small glowing orbs of magic. Most places did not have glass in their windows, and why bother with the glass if there were simple spells to keep out weather and pests and such?

It was truly fascinating and Harry hoped he hadn’t lost track of their path when Fred led him up a stone staircase on the outside of a building to knock at a door on the second level.

There was a loud thump from within, followed by some grumbling that sounded like, “Hold onto yer britches.”

“What’s your name?” Fred asked suddenly.

For a moment, Harry floundered, having gone through so many names that day, he’d forgotten the one he’d settled on. Thankfully, it took only a moment for the right name to rise in his thoughts. “Thomas Fell,” he said quietly.

Fred nodded, then did a double-take, followed by a bemused smirk curling his lips. He turned back to look at the door just as it opened.

“What?” grumped a man in his later years with a mess of steely gray hair and eyes to match. His face was clean-shaven and would have been impressively square but for the softening caused by the man’s slightly advanced weight. His eyes were quite sharp though.

“Good evening, Mr. Grimm,” Fred said pleasantly. “We’ve come to see if you have any flats for rent?”

The man huffed a, “yeah right,” and moved to close the door.

Fred moved faster, getting his foot in place before it could close. “I assure you, Mr. Grimm, my friend can pay. You see, I own a shop on Diagon Alley, and Mr. Fell works for me.”

The man grudgingly opened the door again and looked Fred up and down before grunting. “That colorful place, right?”

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” Fred affirmed proudly.

Mr. Grimm looked anything but impressed as he turned his attention to Harry and looked him over as well. His eyes lingered a bit on the bag Harry was still holding against his midsection, but he didn’t look overly interested.

Harry fought the urge to fidget or smooth down his fringe, reminding himself that he didn’t look like Harry Potter right now, but if he started with Harry Potter’s tells, he might make it rather obvious.

The man finally looked Harry in the eye and demanded, “Well? Do you talk, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said quietly, but firmly, doing his best to hide his nerves. “I need somewhere to live. It doesn’t need to be large.”

“Good, because it won’t be,” the man said gruffly, then huffed a sigh and reached back into his home, emerging a moment later with a ring of keys. He closed and locked his door, then looked at Fred. “Are you renting?”

“No,” Fred admitted.

“Then go away,” Mr. Grimm waved a dismissive hand at him before turning and making his way down the alley. “Follow me, boy. I’ll show you what I got and you can decide if you want it.”

Harry twitched slightly at being addressed as “boy”, but kept his mouth shut and followed the man.

“I got to head back to the shop, Tom,” Fred called after him. “Be there early tomorrow!”

Harry took that to mean they wanted him to stop by before they opened. His breath trembled a bit as it came out when he followed after Mr. Grimm, now entirely alone deep in the bowels of Knockturn Alley without even so much as the ability to use his wand to defend himself. At least not without drawing down untold trouble on his head.

Reminding himself that showing fear around a bunch of creatures was probably the worst thing he could do, he worked to square up his posture and follow his potential landlord a minute or two’s walk down the street before the man began to climb some stairs. These were wooden and looked draped against the wall with no obvious support at all. Even knowing “magic”, did not make Harry entirely comfortable climbing to the fourth story.

There, they went to the third door along the balcony and Mr. Grimm easily found the key he desired to open the lock. He pushed open the door and waved Harry through.

Nervously, Harry preceded him into the dwelling. It was… minimalistic was the nicest way to describe it.

He believed it would be considered a studio type flat. The kitchen, living area, and bedroom are all one room. Just one door opened off the rear of the apartment, which he assumed was the bathroom.

The floor was made of wood that bent a bit and squeaked beneath his feet. It was unevenly worn and scratched and chipped from what must have been many years of use. The walls were wide panels of wood, as though from very large trees, stained from years of who knew what. The windows were lacking any kind of glass but had slatted shutters hinged over them. The lighting was oil lamps that must have been enchanted to come on when someone entered the room.

The flat was furnished with old, mismatched furniture. The bed was as sunken in the middle as the small loveseat. There were only two kitchen chairs, one of which was listing to one side. There was one bookshelf built into the wall across from the bed. It looked in pretty good condition.

The “kitchen” if it could be called such, was not greatly impressive. There was a cast-iron sink built into a wooden frame, a single, freestanding wooden counter with cupboards, and on top of it, the same kind of freestanding single burner they used in potions class took the place of a stove. There was no fridge, of course, but a pair of cabinets mounted to the wall were labeled “cool” and “cold”, though upon inspection, they were not functioning all that well.

A look through the door at the back revealed a bathroom, as expected. The tub was an old, freestanding wooden deal with no plumbing attached to it. There was a small counter with a cast iron bowl and pitcher on it. Again, no plumbing. The toilet, at least, looked decently recognizable, if old-fashioned, and that did seem to have plumbing.

It was how he imagined the Burrow might look with less stuff and years of neglect.

He found he didn’t mind it as much as he might have expected. Sure it was pretty crappy, but it would be a roof over his head and it would be _all his_.

“How much?” he asked Mr. Grimm, who was standing in the doorway with only mild evident impatience.

“Eighty galleons a month. You pay at the beginning of the month, not the end. Twenty galleons deposit for damages. You’ll get it back when you move out only if you leave the place in the same or better shape than it is now,” he rattled off quickly. “You want it, you give me a hundred galleons right now and I give you the key.”

Hoping he had that much in the pouch Fred had given him, Harry moved over to the table and started counting out stacks of coins. He managed to come up with a hundred and had three left over in the pouch.

Mr. Grimm placed the key on the table, then scooped all the coins into his own pouch. “Eighty galleons on the first of the month, Mr. Fell or you’ll be out. You can bring the coins by my flat or deposit them into vault 612 at Gringotts. Just make sure you leave your name with the goblins so they can record your payment. You make me come here looking for your rent and I’ll add five galleons onto it for my inconvenience.”

Once Harry nodded to show that he understood, the man turned and left without another word.

Abruptly alone, Harry looked around his new flat. A small smile worked it’s way onto his face as he clutched the bag containing his precious eggs a little tighter. Maybe everything would work out after all.

As Harry moved around his new flat, a few things occurred to him. One was that he’d left almost everything that he owned at the Dursleys and would need to go back and get it without being seen with his new look. Two was that he needed to buy dishes and linens and a quilt and pillows for his bed and probably a lot of other stuff he wasn’t thinking of. Three was that he was getting hungry and there was no food in the flat.

With a sigh, he fished through his own funds and came up with eight galleons from what he’d taken out last summer. So that made eleven. He could get more out of Gringotts, but it was rather late and he didn’t know that he wanted to go to the trouble tonight. He supposed he’d have to focus on necessities and worry about the rest tomorrow.

With a bracing breath, Harry grabbed his key and headed back onto the alley. He made sure to lock up behind him even though he’d not left any personal possessions inside and there wasn’t anything worth stealing there anyway. He made his way back down the stairs to the alley, then looked around. Food, dishes, a towel for bathing, and a blanket for his bed were of highest priority. He didn’t know if he’d have enough for everything, but he supposed he could wait on the blanket. He could use the little blanket his eggs were wrapped in and just settle them on top of the bag for the night. They’d be held against him under the blanket anyway, so they wouldn’t get cold.

Anyway, if they were cold-blooded as the eggs suggested, then the blanket wasn’t doing them much good without a source of heat.

As he navigated the warren of little streets in search of the shops he needed, Harry couldn’t help but note just how many people there were. How many homes and businesses. This wasn’t the festering pit of Dark Wizards that he’d been led to believe. It was just kind of the poor district. The slums. The place where everyone ostracized by the Ministry retreated to live in relative peace.

Harry didn’t doubt there were plenty of questionable characters and questionable business practices down here, but they were undoubtedly in the minority. These were just people.

A lot of people who weren’t accepted by Hogwarts. Though Harry didn’t agree with it, he could almost understand the way the magical world disliked the muggle one. They were just so different. But this… These were magical people. Magical beings. They should be wielding wands and using magic as freely as anyone, but they weren’t. They weren’t allowed because they were different.

It burned something awful at his sense of what was right, but even more now, as he was about to be the parent to two creatures, it hurt badly to know that they’d grow up treated like they were less than other people.

It took a couple of hours considering that he had no idea where to find the shops he was looking for, but Harry did manage to buy a few dishes and a couple of pans for cooking, food to cook in them, and a towel to dry the dishes when he washed them. He’d decided against a bathing towel upon remembering that he had no way to fill the giant bathtub except to haul water from the kitchen sink until he could use his wand. He could bathe right from the sink if he needed to, but he didn’t think it would be that long. He could wait.

He’d woken early from a less than perfect night of sleep, so Harry felt justified in making a quick sandwich, then crawling into bed a bit early. He wished that he had a thicker blanket, but he’d spent most of his life sleeping with some level of discomfort. Neither the chill nor the sagging bed were enough to keep him up long.

Thanks to his early night, he woke early despite having no way to set an alarm. He rinsed his mouth and scrubbed a finger over his teeth, then packed up his eggs and headed back toward the twins’ shop. He knew that, technically, he could leave the eggs alone for a few hours and they’d probably be fine.

That didn’t mean he was going to do it.

For one, he had no way to even guess how long it would be before they would hatch. For two… he really didn’t _want_ to. It was like the way he’d just acted instinctively when he’d… laid them.

Merlin that was a weird thought.

He supposed it was just instinct, but it was telling him to keep them within eyesight if not arms’ reach at all times. He could undoubtedly do otherwise if absolutely necessary, but he really didn’t want to if he could help it.

The walk to the twins’ shop was actually pretty quiet. There weren’t too many people out and about so early in this alley. He could see what Fred had meant about most things not opening up until afternoon.

He drew a few stares, but he mostly just kept his head down and no one looked very long. When he reached the shop, which wouldn’t be open yet, he knocked on the back door and it wasn’t long before it was swung open by who he thought was George.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was about this twin that just screamed George to him, but something did. He wasn’t sure, of course, but that was his guess.

“Hiya, Harry!” George greeted, quietly enough not to draw attention, then ushered him inside. “How’s the flat?”

“Good,” Harry grinned, then laughed a bit at himself, “Well, it’s a dump, but it’s mine, right?”

George returned his grin, “Trust me, I know the feeling.” He led the way upstairs, calling over his shoulder, “You had breakfast yet, Harry?”

“Er, no,” Harry admitted. He’d been so eager to get going on his to-do list today that he hadn’t even thought of it.

“Well, there’s enough porridge for three,” he offered as they entered the flat. “Fred has a weird need to feed people, so he made sure.” He leaned a bit toward Harry and added in a stage whisper, “Takes a bit too much after mum, if you know what I mean.”

“There’s still time to burn yours,” Fred said in a pleasant voice from the kitchen area.

Harry let out a startled laugh and George looked entirely too pleased with himself. Harry shook his head as he took a seat next to George at the table while Fred served the porridge with a glass of orange juice, a couple slices of toast, and a half an apple cut into wedges.

Harry wisely did not comment on just how much it looked like one of Mrs. Weasley’s “light” breakfasts. A light breakfast for Harry tended to be plain toast instead of jam toast, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d been up long enough to have developed a bit of an appetite by now. He didn’t wake ravenous like Ron.

His face fell as he thought of Ron. It pained him that he couldn’t trust his best friend to support him now he’d discovered a latent creature inheritance, but Ron had his flaws. Unfortunately, he didn’t do well with anything that didn’t fit his narrow view of “good” and “evil”.

“So what are you up to today, Harry?”

He looked up from the food he’d been playing with to see Fred was addressing him. “I need to go back to the Dursleys and get my things,” he admitted.

The twins exchanged a worried glance at that. “Be careful, Harry. The Order’s been watching the house. It wouldn’t do for them to see you like that.”

Harry blinked in surprise, remembering Dumbledore saying something about watching him much more closely than he could have guessed. He remembered Mrs. Figg turning out to be a squib. “I didn’t see anyone,” he admitted.

“Disillusionment charms and invisibility cloaks,” George shrugged.

Harry grimaced at the idea of invisible people spying on him. He knew it was probably supposed to be for his own protection but didn’t bodyguards make themselves known to the one they were guarding? This felt more like they were trying to catch him at something he shouldn’t be doing.

It made him wonder if Dumbledore was waiting to see if he’d get his creature inheritance. The man had to know there was at least a decent chance that the parseltongue wasn’t from Voldemort but just him. He frowned as another thought occurred to him. “Say, if Voldemort’s a parselmouth, does that mean he’s a creature?”

“Some parselmouths aren’t,” George offered. “When creature lines mix with human lines, sometimes the creature heritage goes dormant. Most of those lines are still capable of speaking parseltongue even though they never manifest the rest. Voldemort could be like that. I think the Order generally believes that he was like that until some rituals he did triggered at least a partial creature transformation, which is why he looked less than human before ‘81.”

“He’s way worse now,” Harry assured him. “He doesn’t really look human at all anymore.”

“Maybe the resurrection triggered a full transformation?” Fred posed.

“Could be,” George shrugged. “Or could be something in the ritual required that he use his creature heritage. He’s definitely naga, so maybe he used some snake bits in the ritual?”

“Nagini’s venom, I think,” Harry said quietly, remembering that horrible dream/vision he’d had. He cleared his throat nervously when he saw their questioning looks. “I had a vision last year… He was talking about milking Nagini.”

George nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, that’d probably do it. That snake’s a twilusk, one of the most venomous magical snakes in the world, only a bit short of a basilisk. That’d be one hell of an ingredient in a potion.”

“Am I going to end up looking like Voldemort?” Harry nervously voiced his worst fear about it all.

“No,” Fred said immediately. “Naga and drake both can have a different skin color and usually get some scales here and there. There’s the slit pupils and better senses, but you’re not going to lose your hair or nose or ears.”

“Voldemort’s creature traits likely affected his resurrection ritual,” George continued, “but they’re not the sole cause of his looks.”

Harry nodded and breathed easier. Merlin, that was good news. Though the new information about skin color and scales was a bit concerning.

“Anyway,” Fred said after a moment of silence. “Do you have your invisibility cloak, at least?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry nodded, gently patting his bag. He’d stuffed the invisibility cloak down in the bottom just in case. Since Voldemort’s resurrection, it had seemed prudent to keep it on him. Just in case.

“Good.” Fred nodded. “I’d suggest putting it on well before you get near the house and not taking it off.”

“How am I supposed to get my trunk out of there without using magic or being seen?” Harry griped.

George snapped his fingers and bounced out of his chair, quickly moving to a pile of what Harry had thought may be dirty clothes stuffed into a corner of the room. George shuffled through it a moment before coming back with what looked like a cloth shopping bag. He tossed it to Harry with a grin. It’s bigger on the inside,” he explained. “Just empty your trunk into there and slip that bag into the one you’re already carrying.”

“Thanks,” Harry said slowly, looking over at the pile of similar bags.

“We’re working on them for the store,” Fred explained. “The bags look normal except the bottom is expanded. The idea is to have a false bottom, so someone fills it up, then the bottom disappears and the items fall into the extra space. Then the bottom reappears and their stuff is missing. We’re still working on making the false bottom work right, so for now, it just works like an expanded bag.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled a little. Of course, it was meant to be a prank.

“You can keep that one,” George assured. “We’ve got dozens as you can see, and the bags aren’t actually worth much.”

Harry smiled a little and tucked the bag in next to his eggs. He didn’t know how, but someday he was going to find a way to pay Fred and George back for their kindness. With interest.

“I need to withdraw from Hogwarts right away,” Harry said after they’d all spent a few moments eating in silence. “My flat is not set up for someone without the ability to cast some basic spells. Also, all those clothes I bought yesterday are still shrunk and useless.”

“Oh. I forgot about that,” Fred admitted sheepishly. “I’d meant to unshrink them for you before I left, but…”

“It’s okay,” Harry dismissed. Yes, he was going on three days in the same clothes without bathing, but he’d definitely had worse growing up.

“Well, at least let me clean those for you,” Fred insisted.

Before Harry could quite process what he meant, Fred had whipped out his wand and cast a silent cleaning charm _._

Harry shivered at the feel of the different magic brushing against his skin as it ran through his clothes. It lasted only a moment though, and Harry had to admit, the clothes did feel a lot better after. Fresh and clean again. “Thanks,” he said with a small grin.

They ate for a bit in silence before Fred and George started talking about some new product they were working on for the shop. From what Harry could gather, they were talking about hats that carried a shield charm. He wasn’t sure what the gag was because they started devolving into the arithmancy and he lost track entirely of what they were saying.

As they were finishing up their food, George disappeared into one of the bedrooms briefly before coming back out with a roll of parchment and a quill. He put both in front of Harry as Fred cleared away the dishes.

“Address it to the Deputy Headmistress,” George explained. “She’s the one who handles that stuff. Just write something like, ‘Dear Headmistress, Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I am writing to withdraw myself from Hogwarts, effective immediately.’ You’ve got your OWLs, so you don’t need a reason or alternate schooling plans or anything.”

“Will she really withdraw me?” Harry wondered.

“Not up to her,” George shrugged. “As soon as the letter is delivered to her, the school’s magic will recognize your withdrawal and the Trace comes off your wand automatically. Nothing she or Dumbledore can do about it.”

Harry relaxed at that, nodding a bit before picking up the quill.

“It’s self-inking,” George supplied when Harry looked around for the ink.

“Does the magical world have fountain pens?” Harry wondered as he started the first line of his letter.

By the confused and curious look on George’s face, Harry was thinking not. “They’re little tubes with a metal tip similar to a quill. They hold ink inside to write with. They’re much easier to use than quills and more durable. And you don’t have to sharpen them all the time.”

“No, we don’t have anything like that,” George admitted. “Sounds interesting though.”

“Maybe I’ll stop and buy some while I’m in the muggle world,” Harry decided. He could load them with magical inks just fine and they’d be more comfortable to use. Might even help his penmanship improve to more legible levels.

He concentrated, for a while, on writing his letter to McGonagall. He could post it before he left and it should be there by that afternoon. Then he could finally take a bath and clean up the flat a little. Not to mention just generally feeling safer with the ability to defend himself without drawing so much attention from the Ministry and probably Dumbledore when he really didn’t want anyone to find him.

He got the letter folded and sealed. Hedwig hadn’t caught up to him yet, so he’d just have to use a regular post owl. That was probably safer anyway. Hedwig was too noticeable.

Speaking of, he was going to have to do something about her distinctive look or lock her inside all the time, which she’d never stand for. She wasn’t the only snowy owl in England, of course, but they were rare enough for anyone that knew of Hedwig to give her a second glance if they were looking for him. She could probably pass for an eagle owl with some color changing charms. She was big enough and eagle owls had similar body shapes. She’d need those hornlike feathers sticking up on her head though.

Merlin, she was going to hate him. She was rather vain for an owl and was unlikely to take this well.

“Before you go, Harry,” Fred said just as Harry was thinking of heading out. “George and I put together something to help you out.” He approached with a teacup full of something that smelled like dirty socks, so was more than likely a potion. “It’ll, er…” he hesitated, looking nervous. “It’ll magically change your name.”

Harry’s eyes widened, unsure what that would mean.

Fred shrugged a bit, “Well, most tracking spells rely on your name to find you. Your name and someone’s familiarity with you. If you change your name, magically speaking, it’ll throw them off. That way they’d need some of your blood or hair or something to track you, and even then, as you inherit more of your creature traits, you’ll physically change enough to throw even those off.”

“You’ll still be able to access your Gringotts accounts,” George put in as he rejoined them. “Gringotts identifies people by magical signature, and that remains constant your whole life. It changes as you grow, of course, but the parts the goblins record stays the same.”

“So, what you do,” Fred picked up again, “is bring the potion to your mouth, then say your new name, then drink it while keeping that new name in the front of your mind until you’ve swallowed it all.”

“If you’re sure you want to change your name,” George added gently.

Harry took the potion hesitantly, but he knew that he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t be Harry Potter anymore. He was a creature. With kids. His future didn’t line up with Harry Potter’s future anymore. He swallowed hard, then brought the cup to his lips and clearly said, “Thomas Fell.” He didn’t hesitate before drinking it down, keeping strongly in mind the new name and new identity. Harry Potter was his past. Thomas Fell was his future.

He gagged slightly on the flavor. It _tasted_ like dirty socks as well, but with just a hint of almond, which seemed to make it worse.

He dropped off the letter at the Owl Post office and paid the small fee to have it sent, then headed back into muggle London. He took the underground to Waterloo Station, then the train to Woking Station in Surrey, followed by a half hour’s walk to Little Whinging. He made his way first to the little park he frequented as a child. There, he used the cover of some bushes to don his invisibility cloak. From there, it was only a few minute’s walk to Number 4 Privet Drive. He was careful to walk as quietly as possible as he made his way around the back of the house and sneaked in through the back door.

As expected given the hour, Vernon was at work, Dudley was gone with his friends, and Petunia was on the phone gabbing to one of her friends, who were all just as vicious and insincere as far as Harry had ever observed. It wasn’t difficult to sneak by her, given his invisibility, and hurry up the stairs. He quickly moved to his trunk, which he’d been allowed to keep in his room this summer, probably in large part due to the threats the Order had made to them.

He didn’t waste any time in transferring everything to the expanded bag, even the things he figured he’d end up throwing away later. He didn’t want to take the time to sort through anything now. All he needed was to still be here when Dudley showed up begging for lunch.

He emptied the void under the floorboard as well, then gave the room a quick inspection to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.

There was only Hedwig’s empty cage, but there was no way he could fit that into the bag. He’d just have to buy her a proper perch to replace it. She didn’t really need the cage anyway. When he needed to take her somewhere, he could always just let her out to follow after him. Without the Dursleys around to want her locked up, there was really no reason to confine her to a little cage.

Content with that decision, Harry slipped the expanded bag back in next to the eggs — the damn thing still felt empty — and left the house as silently as he’d entered. With the trunk still there, no one would even know he’d been by if they didn’t look inside the trunk.

He reversed his course to get back to Diagon Alley and headed straight home.

He had a stupid little smirk on his face half the way because it was really hitting him that he had a _home_. Of his own. And no one was going to tell him he had to go back to the Dursleys. He’d sent out his withdrawal from Hogwarts and he’d collected his things from Privet Drive. There was no backing out now.

He stopped at a stationery store in London on the way back and picked up a handful of cheap fountain pens. When he reentered magical London, he stopped by Gringotts on his way through and took out a couple hundred galleons. He was going to have to be a little thrifty with his money from now on. The income he was getting from the twins’ shop wasn’t going to cover everything he had going out with rent and food and everything else so he was going to be slowly draining his account. He needed to keep that drain as small as possible.

That said, he did need to stock his flat with more dishes and cooking supplies and linens and he needed a real quilt for his bed. He would have to put a bit of money into getting it ready. There was no getting out of that.

With the money, he returned to Knockturn Alley because he was less likely to run into someone who might recognize him and because things were likely cheaper down there. He ended up spending half the day wandering the alley, picking up bits and bobs that he hadn’t even thought to shop for until he’d seen them. Rubbish bins and curtains and books on household spells because Hogwarts didn’t do that good of a job at teaching things like the spell for cleaning dishes or dusting or deodorizing, etc.

Thankfully, his expanded bag from the twins never seemed to get any fuller so he was able to put everything into it and easily carry it around. He got some more food as well since he’d only gotten a small selection before.

By the time he made it back to his flat, he had to spend another two hours unpacking and putting everything where it belonged. By the time he was done, his flat was starting to look like someone lived there.

It was around seven in the evening when his wand suddenly let out a bright glow, a small pop, and then trailed a wisp of smoke.

Harry stared at it in shock for a moment before it clicked what had just happened.

The Trace.

Hogwarts must have just received his letter of withdrawal.

He was suddenly very glad that he’d just stocked up on everything he thought he’d need. Once Dumbledore found out that he’d quit Hogwarts, the Order would probably be out in force searching for him. The best thing he could probably do would be to stay inside for as long as possible. At least a few days. Maybe a week if he could manage it. And if he did go out, stay close. It was unlikely the Order would spend a lot of time searching Knockturn for him, probably convinced that he wouldn’t venture down for fear of attack by evil Dark Wizards.

Still, better err on the side of caution as much as possible.

Feeling a little paranoid, he cast a quick levitation charm, then put his wand away and waited to make sure no owl from the Ministry showed up.

He made himself a simple stew, which was only a little challenging given the single burner. He’d just set it to simmer when an owl swooped in through the window above the door that was no doubt made for the purpose.

His heart almost stopped in the second it took him to realize that it wasn’t a ministry owl but Hedwig.

Glad that she’d finally caught up to him, Harry spent the half-hour the stew had to simmer just petting her and telling her all about what he’d been through in the last couple of days. He knew that she didn’t understand most of it, but she was a good listener anyway. She watched him intently and at least _seemed_ interested in what he had to say.

When his meal was ready, he decided the Trace really was gone from his wand and he transfigured the uneven kitchen chair into a perch for Hedwig, since it was the only thing he’d forgotten to buy and he didn’t plan to go out for a while.

He didn’t plan to have any visitors for a while anyway.

After he’d eaten — it turned out pretty good, even if he did say so himself — he put the leftovers away in the cool cabinet, washed the dishes, then resized his clothes and put them away in the wardrobe.

He then filled the tub nice and full with a combination of the _aguamenti_ charm and the warming charm. The bath felt incredible. At Hogwarts they took showers. At the Dursleys, he was lucky to get enough time to soap and rinse before he was rushed out and heaven help him if there was any evidence he’d used warm water — like steam. So his showers were always cool. The only bath he’d ever really had was in the prefect’s bathroom in that pool-sized tub.

And Moaning Myrtle had been there, so it wasn’t really very relaxing.

He found he liked it a lot, though he thought he might come to miss showers if he couldn’t figure out how to rig one up. Surely it couldn’t be that hard with magic, right? Just like a showerhead charmed with _aguamenti_ and warming charms? He wondered if they sold those or if he’d have to figure out how to make one. Could be fun, though he’d have to find more books. He had no idea how to attach charms to an object. Was that arithmancy? Runes?

He didn’t know.

He decided not to worry about it and instead focused on reading his book about household charms while he soaked away all his dirt and stress, his eggs cradled in the reed basket he’d purchased for them, a cute baby blanket tucked around them.

He was sure that fate wasn’t done complicating things for him, but for the moment, things were pretty good.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s week of seclusion turned out to be four days. Though he was well-practiced in sitting in one place and pretending he didn’t exist, he’d developed an itch under his skin. Not an actual, physical itch, thankfully, but a mental one. It was like the instinct to keep the eggs close, but much worse because this was an instinct that he was trying to ignore.

It was telling him that he wasn’t ready. That he had eggs soon to hatch and he _wasn_ _’t ready_. It was a constant itch. A constant _need_ to get ready that he couldn’t fulfill while trapped in his flat.

He needed to learn as much as possible about what kind of creature he was. He needed to learn as much as he could about what his children would be. What form they would take. What they would need when they hatched. Then he needed to get all of that and be ready.

He _needed_.

And so on the fourth day, he ventured out. He made sure to wait until after dark to increase the odds that he could blend in while also hopefully limiting how many Order members might be down here. He donned his darkest clothes and covered them with his biggest cloak, which had a deep hood and fell to his ankles. It was a little dramatic for his tastes, but this wasn’t about fashion. It was about safety.

He used one of the household spells he’d been learning to briefly turn a strip of the wall into a full-length mirror and examined himself. He truly looked _nothing_ like himself. His face was shadowed and indistinct, but his light-colored hair was noticeable around his neck. His clothes looked like what anyone else that lived down the alley might wear and nothing like Harry Potter had ever worn.

“I am Thomas Fell,” he said quietly to himself. His reflection didn’t look overly convinced.

He slid his wand into the sheath inside his sleeve and packed his eggs carefully into his shoulder bag. He made sure he had his bottomless bag for shopping, then headed out. He jogged lightly down the flights to the street and set out for a used bookstore he’d passed a few times. It was a pretty decent size and he hoped it would have information about the rarer reptilian creatures. He made sure to keep his hood pulled low and his posture confident. At least half the people on the alley wore equally concealing cloaks, but no one moved about as if expecting to get jumped. Oh, some kept a hand on their wand, but no one looked actively frightened.

For good reason, he was sure. He knew that animals were more likely to attack if you acted scared. It was an instinct that identified you as prey. Given the instincts he’d felt since he’d become a dad-to-be, he suspected that a lot of these creatures probably suffered such instincts and he didn’t want to accidentally set any off.

He also realized he was going to have to start tracking the full moons. He was sure it would be a good idea to stay in that night.

The bookshop was only a few minutes’ walk from his flat and he was soon letting himself inside. He was pretty sure no one had paid him undue attention, so he didn’t think he was in any immediate danger.

He was just a couple of steps into the shop when he turned to glance at the man behind the sales counter and completely froze.

The man was well above the stature of most tall men. He also had gray skin, scales, and horns. His eyes were a brilliant gold with vertically slit pupils and his scaled hands had bone spikes running over his knuckles and his fingers ended in claws rather than fingernails. It was certainly a sight, but what really hit Harry hard was that this could be what he would look like in a few months.

“Problem?” the man literally growled at him, showing off very frighteningly sharp teeth as he did.

Harry realized only then that he’d been staring. “Sorry,” he managed to hoarsely apologize before he hurried back into the shelves. Merlin, that was awkward. The last thing he needed was for people to start thinking he had a problem with creatures. Granted, he wouldn’t be passing for human much longer himself. He’d already started to notice that he could see a bit better in the dark and his sense of smell was definitely getting stronger.

Still, he supposed he could be a self-hating creature. Like Remus. How sad was it that Harry wasn’t sure a werewolf would be okay with Harry being a creature? Remus just seemed to hate his nature so much. Like he genuinely thought half of himself was evil.

Aside from that uncomfortable experience, Harry found that he really liked the bookstore. The atmosphere was warm and homey. It smelled like old books, which he found strangely comforting. Maybe it was nostalgia for long study sessions in the library with Hermione when all he’d had to worry about was passing his classes.

Though he had initially considered just asking for books on naga and drakes, he thought better of it now. The odds were too high that the shopkeeper, clearly a drake himself, would take offense.

So instead, he busied himself looking through shelf after shelf of books. His impression from the outside hadn’t done the place justice. It was very large on the inside. Likely more so than the physical space should have allowed. Magic was just endlessly fascinating.

Though Harry thought magic in general was pretty cool, what he really found intriguing were the practical applications. Way more interesting to him than momentarily turning a desk into a pig was how did his windows work, exactly, to keep out weather and wind and pests and let in light despite having no glass? How, exactly, did one make cabinets with no insulation keep things cool without cooling the surrounding area? Those things really brought to light how wonderful magic could be.

It was probably why he loved Defense class so much. Charms and Transfigurations were largely about flashy tricks or pointless exercises like rats into teacups. (Who would want to drink out of something that was a rat moments before? Didn’t seem at all sanitary.) Defense was all about magic that _did_ something. Magic with an immediate purpose. His brain just seemed to pick it up easier when there was something useful he could apply it to.

Possibly a side effect of growing up in a household where he’d always had more to do than time to do it. Where he would have killed for the spells he’d recently learned to clean dishes, dust entire rooms, and scrub toilets and bathtubs with no bending or even touching the gross stuff. There were spells for gathering scattered debris and for gently cleaning different surfaces. Spells for doing laundry and even cleaning himself. It didn’t replace baths, but it was kind of great if he spilled on himself when he was cooking or eating or something.

What he needed now were books about creatures, though he found a lot of other fascinating things along the way. Books about childcare, for instance. Two of those made it into the pile he was buying. One focused more on raising a child and the stages of development and such while the other was focused on spells and potions and things that one could use to help care for the child. Like child-proofing dangerous cupboards and sharp corners, changing nappies from a safe distance without drying out sensitive skin, and keeping baby from falling down stairs or rolling off beds. While the muggles had devices and contraptions to handle these things, magic did most of it with invisible barriers and cushioning charms.

He also found a DIY book about building things like simple furniture with magic. Considering his limited funds, the fact he had only one chair, and his curiosity about making things with magic, he snatched that up fast. He found an interesting book entitled _Creature Laws of Magical Britain: What You Need To Know_. That seemed like something he genuinely needed to know.

Eventually, he did find the section on magical creatures. He settled on two books. Though he couldn’t find any specifically dealing with naga and drakes, he did find one with a broad coverage of magical creatures and one with a focus on dark magical creatures.

Thankfully, none of the books were expensive. In fact, all of the books he picked out were less than two galleons together. They all showed very obvious signs of use, but they didn’t seem to be missing any pages, so he didn’t mind. He wanted them for their content, after all, not as showpieces.

With a deep breath, he summoned up his courage to face the shopkeep again, then made his way confidently up to the front. His Gryffindor courage managed to hold despite the fact that the man was staring daggers at him when he emerged from between the shelves. Harry managed to continue without showing his dread and he placed the books on the counter.

The man continued to glare a moment before grudgingly beginning to tally up the books. As he did so, his rigid posture seemed to soften and his glare was down to a wary stare by the time he looked up to give Harry the total.

It took Harry a moment, as he was collecting the coins, to realize that the man was probably responding to the books he was buying. Apparently, Harry had been elevated from creature-hater in the man’s estimation, which was a relief because the man was seriously huge and even scarier up close.

Also, he really liked this bookstore and he’d like to be able to come back.

As he left the shop, he noticed that the alley was a bit busier and there were definitely more obvious creatures about. Werewolves passed pretty well apart from being a little harrier than the average witch or wizard. There were more obvious creatures though, like the drake. Some were partially or even fully covered in fur of different colors and textures. Some alternated between walking upright and on all fours. Some could pass for human if not for giant feathered wings on their backs, which he thought might be where the muggle myth of angels came from. Most of the creatures seemed to be mammals. Next most common were the avians. He hadn't seen any reptilian creatures beyond that one shopkeep, making it all the more apparent what George had meant when he’d said some species were rarer. It was uncomfortable to think how he would stand out even in creature-heavy areas like this.

No wonder that drake was so defensive.

Fred and George had said there were a lot of different creatures, but Harry hadn’t really processed what that meant before.

There were also a fairly healthy dose of what looked to be vanilla humans in the mix. Clearly Knockturn Alley wasn’t only for creatures. It just had a much higher concentration of them.

Harry also bought a couple of blankets, some baby clothes, and a couple bottles and formula. He had no idea if his babies would need any of it, but it was the minimum he was comfortable having until he knew for sure that they wouldn’t.

He was waiting on the furniture to see if he could figure out how to make his own with that DIY book. That would save him some money and he could tailor them to exactly what he needed rather than whatever was available.

Finally, he bought some more food to hold him over for however long he could stand to stay in his flat. The less he ventured out, the safer he would be, so he was going to at least make an effort to keep his head down.

It wasn’t so bad to stay in. He really loved having his own place and he was kind of drunk on improving the place, one small piece at a time. Mostly he was doing that with his household spells. He highly suspected that the previous occupant and quite possibly Mr. Grimm were not greatly magically knowledgeable. Or perhaps powerful.

He found it rather appalling that so much of the magical population just wasn’t properly educated because they were creatures. It was no one’s fault if they weren’t magically powerful, but there should be more magical items that could be used to accomplish things magically if one didn’t have the knowledge or power to cast the spells. There really should.

Maybe someday he’d open a magic school for creatures, but it wasn’t something he could worry about right away. He had to finish his education himself and he’d have babies to take care of soon enough. The rest of the world would just have to continue to get by without him.

During his first four days of seclusion, he’d managed to get Hedwig into a reasonable approximation of an eagle owl. She’d not stopped glaring at him for it and she’d bitten him a dozen times when he was doing it, but she could come and go as she pleased now without worry. She seemed to spend long periods of time away out of spite, then when she was back, she’d be extra affectionate to him and the eggs, like she was apologizing. Only to turn around and spend the whole day away again.

She was clearly struggling to deal with all the sudden changes just as much as Harry was.

With at least some basic provisions for the eggs should they hatch, the itch was much milder and Harry was able to spend a whole week in his flat. He read all of the books he’d bought. He was a little terrified by everything he’d learned about babies, but he knew he’d manage because he didn’t have a choice and he had always excelled under those circumstances.

The books about creatures were interesting. He learned that the people with bird wings were the Valkyrie Fred and George had mentioned. They were one of the more common species, though not so common in Britain. A bit like the Veela. He learned that there was any number of species that qualified as “weres” beyond the werewolves, though they didn’t all work the same way. Some were beholden to the moon while others were not. Some were passed with a bite whereas others only through a ritual or even by old-fashioned mating and reproduction. The only thing that seemed to lump them all in together was that they all had the spirit of a wild animal combined with their human soul.

He also learned that the werewolf “curse” wasn’t really how he’d always thought because of Remus. For starters, werewolves had to change on the full moon and the wolf part of them took over then, but they could _also_ change any other time of the month and keep their own mind. That only worked, however, if they’d fully embraced the spirit of the wolf and properly bonded with it so that the two became as one instead of fighting each other for dominance. This also tended to give the werewolf more wolf characteristics while in human form, but it seemed worth it. Especially because the transformations were supposed to be painful exactly in proportion to the conflict between the souls.

There were portions of the book about naga and drakes as well, thankfully, though the sections were shorter as the author seemed to have less information on them.

There was a sketched picture of each species, which he found eminently interesting. The drake was larger than the naga. Apparently, the naga could be quite tall but are almost never broad, and though they were strong, their muscles were not as pronounced. The naga also did not grow any horns or bone spikes like the drake. Both had scales, though the drake’s scales were thicker and more prominent. Both had slit pupils.

Thankfully, the twins were right and both had noses and ears and hair.

The naga also gained the ability to shift into snake form, a bit like an animagus, though much easier and more naturally. Drakes, on the other hand, did not always gain a second form. Some could transform into like a small dragon with or without wings, but others were just a hybrid. Some also had the ability to breathe fire, but others did not. This did not seem to be dependent on whether they were shifted, which was scary. That drake in the bookshop had looked angry enough to breathe fire when Harry had first come in. It was intimidating to think he really might have been capable of it.

Though it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea in a bookstore.

Of their reproduction, it said that both species mated for life, though if one of them died, it was possible — not likely, but possible — for the living mate to mate again. Apparently, they usually mated with their own species, though they were capable of mating with any being with sufficient magic for the mating to occur.

“That’s it?” Harry hissed angrily as the book moved on without explaining _how_ the mating actually occurred.

With a frustrated groan, he read the little bit that was left.

Apparently both species laid eggs. Usually one or two at a time. Rarely three and more rarely four.

That was it. Nothing about what the babies were like when they were born. How they would grow. Nada.

“Shit,” Harry sighed in frustration.

Well, he hadn’t really expected that book to have all the answers. It detailed a dozen species, after all.

The most frustrating book was the one on creature laws. They’d been steadily growing more restrictive over the last couple of decades. Apparently, people got more afraid of creatures because they’d joined Voldemort to fight for their rights. And in order to protect themselves, the fearful humans had increased the restrictions on creature rights.

“These people are _so stupid_ ,” he complained, tossing the book on his bed. He needed a break from that before he incinerated it. He didn’t think he’d even need his wand or an incantation at this point. He was _that_ frustrated.

He’d known that creatures weren’t treated fairly. That was obvious by the way they weren’t allowed a proper education and ended up hiding down Knockturn Alley, generally living in poverty and avoiding most wizards and witches.

Recent laws were really horrific though. Werewolves and vampires seemed to have it the worst because they were the species that had joined Voldemort in large numbers. Neither were legally allowed to marry. There was a long list of jobs each species was not allowed to do. It seemed to consist of basically anything that directly interacted with the public or in any way involved the ministry. They were legally required to register themselves with the Ministry.

It was horrible.

The more he learned, the more he was glad that he wasn’t planning on following through with Dumbledore’s plan to be their beacon of hope and sacrificial lamb. This was not a society that he wanted to champion.

Not that he thought Voldemort was the answer due to the fact that the man was clearly batshit nuts, but Harry didn’t doubt that, should Voldemort be defeated, another Dark Lord would rise up within a few years. With a society that treated such a large percentage of its citizens so deplorably, of course, there would always be someone willing and able to fight against it. And with all the corruption in the Ministry, it wasn’t surprising that people were forced to resort to physical violence.

Hell, Harry’d be willing to throw his wand into the arena if not for his babies. He couldn’t very well lead or even take part in a revolution when he had two kids to care for. He couldn’t risk leaving them alone in the world.

He knew what it was like to grow up alone and he wouldn’t do that to his kids. He knew that his parents had believed they were fighting for a better world for him, but all they’d done was sentence him to a miserable childhood. And if Dumbledore had his way, Harry would die young in a probably not at all epic battle against Voldemort.

After a whole week in his flat, Harry was not only running out of food, he was all but climbing the walls with the need to just get out and do anything. He hoped that the worst of the search for him would have died down by now. At least in this area. Surely they’d have checked the wizarding world here in London first, then gone to check the muggle world or Hogsmeade or something, right?

Unfortunately, he didn’t think they’d give up easily. Not with Dumbledore apparently believing that prophecy. If he really believed that Harry was their only chance to defeat Voldemort and that wasn’t just him telling Harry whatever he thought would motivate him, then he was going to stop at nothing to find him.

And that wasn’t even taking into account Voldemort. Harry had no idea if the man knew that he was gone yet, but if he did, he was probably searching for Harry as well.

Harry just hoped Voldemort wouldn’t keep looking too long if it became apparent that he wasn’t coming back.

The thoughts of Voldemort led Harry to pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet. He’d stopped getting the paper after all that crap last year. Partly because he didn’t want to read the paper and partly because it was making him sick to be paying for a paper when they were lying about him constantly.

There was nothing in the paper about his disappearance or any Death Eater activity. At least nothing on the front page, which surely anything important would be. So he tucked the paper into his bag and headed for the bookshop again. He was going to end up as bad as Hermione if he wasn’t careful. But he had no other source of information anymore. He had to learn everything himself or not know it. Also, he wasn’t getting headaches from a lot of reading anymore. That, he suspected, was due directly to the potion correcting his vision instead of looking through glasses that weren’t the right prescription.

And with near enough nothing else to do with his free time, reading had become quite appealing.

Harry returned to the bookstore shortly after dark, again hidden in his deep cloak. He noticed now as he hadn’t so much at home, that his vision in the dark was becoming even better. He had noticed that his hearing was improving. He needed to find some spells that could muffle without silencing noise. He wanted to be able to hear something going on outside like a battle or something, but he didn’t want to hear the couple down the street having sex.

They did it a lot and never used silencing charms, though whether they didn’t care or couldn’t, he didn’t know.

The drake was eying him when he came in, but he was no longer glaring, so that was good. Harry tried to give the man a bit of a smile when he came in, but he got nothing except a blank stare in return.

Ah, well. Baby steps.

Less nervous this time, Harry let himself relax a bit more and enjoy the atmosphere as he browsed the shelves for information that he desperately wanted — such as anything pertaining to the naga or drakes. He was thinking he was likely naga due to his stature and build. Drakes were supposed to be very physically large. Not just in height but width, too. He also looked for other things that just looked interesting. He was finding that the more he read and the more he wondered, the more curious he became about all kinds of magic.

He found eight books this time, including two more about creatures, and one each on basic arithmancy and runes because he wanted to understand what they were really all about. Hermione had only ever made them sound complicated and exhausting when she’d talked about them, though of course, those were things she enjoyed. The others were about advanced charms and transfigurations because he wanted to know what he wouldn’t be learning the next two years, one about woodworking with magic, and one about warding.

He purchased the books without unnecessary conversation with the drake and also without unnecessary glaring. The man actually seemed like he was warming toward Harry a little. He’d given him the hint of a smile when he’d passed over the bag of new books.

After the bookshop, Harry had stocked up on food again, then stopped by a shop he’d passed by without really paying much attention to before. It was called Raw Materials and, fittingly, sold raw materials. Different kinds of wood, stone, metal, sand, dirt, clay, glass, and a lot more.

Something Harry had learned in his DIY book was that permanent transfigurations were magnitudes easier when you were changing the shape but not the composition or quantity. So while they’d learned in first year to change wood into metal, they’d not, by the end of fifth year, learned to make it permanent. That was master level work. But if you had the material you wanted, then just changed the shape and such, that could be made permanent with only an average magical power and skill.

That was definitely the level that Harry was at.

And the raw materials cost more than making things out of scraps of junk, but they were still much cheaper than buying fully made products.

Plus, he could make exactly what he wanted this way.

He bought a lot of wood because that’s mostly what his DIY book had been about and because he’d just bought another book about working with wood. He decided on oak for the bulk of it since it was fairly middling in price, strong, and he liked the look of it. He also got some cherry and mahogany in case he wanted to add color, and a block of steel because some of the designs in the DIY book had called for steel spikes, rather like nails, to increase the strength of some joints.

After stuffing that into his bottomless bag, Harry went home and unpacked everything.

He was setting up a corner of the room with the saggy couch to be where he worked with building stuff. He didn’t want it scattered all over the flat. When the eggs hatched, he’d need to cordon off the area so they didn’t get hurt.

It was that evening, while drying off after his bath, that Harry noticed it. In the bright light of the bathroom, his pupils had taken on a slight point at top and bottom.

His skin flushed hot, then cold, and he reached to steady himself against the counter. Merlin, he’d known this was coming, but seeing the actual thing was more jarring than he could have imagined.

He quickly dropped his towel and started doing a full-body search in front of the mirror. Now that he was looking for it, he thought that maybe he was a little paler, but that might be because he’d been sequestering himself in his flat for the last week and a half and only venturing out after dark.

What was _not_ his imagination was the fine line of black scales beginning to emerge down his sides. Like a snake, the skin around it seemed to be shedding to reveal the new scales. He remembered scratching at it. It had been itchy the last few days, but he’d not actually given it any further thought.

He braced himself against the counter and just concentrated on breathing for a long time, fighting down the urge to vomit. He wasn’t disgusted with himself, just struggling to deal with the way he was changing.

Changing into something that would make his life infinitely more difficult.

When he was finally convinced he wasn’t about to lose his supper, he dressed in his pajamas on autopilot, then gathered his eggs and crawled into bed. He needed them desperately right now. They made everything else insignificant in comparison. They were more important.

Right now, all he could do was curl around them as he always did at night, then finally stop fighting the flood of emotion. Tears began to flow almost instantly, followed by hard, wracking sobs that shook his body as he just let himself feel what he’d been pushing away since this whole thing had started. He was changing into something he didn’t really understand. He was about to be a father to children that he really didn’t understand. He’d lost everyone that he’d ever cared about.

Very soon, he wouldn’t even be able to pass as human anymore. He’d be ostracized in the wizarding world and unable to go into the muggle world at all except as a circus freak.

Merlin, the Dursleys would just love it if that’s how he ended up.

Eventually, the sobs died down to silent tears and the exhaustion pulled him into a fitful sleep.

He woke the next day feeling drained and deflated. For a long time, he just lay in bed, holding and stroking his eggs with gentle touches. He could feel the babies moving around inside now, though he’d no hope at all of understanding if he was feeling elbows and knees or coils or what. Just feeling that evidence that they were alive was enough to fill him with a swell of love so deep, so much more vast than anything he’d ever experienced, that it was easy for him to understand how someone could step in front of a killing curse.

Somewhere around an hour after waking, he came to the realization that he was feeling sorry for himself and it wasn’t going to fix anything.

“This is your life now,” he whispered to himself. He needed to stop wishing it was different and learn to deal with it.

Finally pulling himself up, he made his round of the bathroom, then made himself a small breakfast.

When his immediate needs were sated, he curled up against his headboard to get started on his new books. He’d begin with the creature books in hopes of learning anything new, but then he was going to read the woodworking one.

That little itch was starting to come back. He needed a bassinet, and soon.

Harry spent the next week in his flat again. It was easier this time. First, because he was working on getting ready for the babies with his forays into furniture building. Second, because the changes to his appearance were more noticeable now and they were growing more pronounced every day. A Gryffindor he may be, but he was feeling pretty cowardly about facing the world right now.

His irises remained blue as the potion had made them, but they grew larger. It took several days for him to be sure he wasn’t imagining it, but the iris was definitely occupying more of his visible eye. The pupil was also getting larger in addition to developing more of a slit in bright light.

The fine line of scales was growing wider as he scratched away the itchy layer of dead skin. In addition to the sides of his torso, it was beginning to show down the outside of his legs and from his collarbones up the sides of his neck and up to his temples. Finally, his hands were beginning to show scales along all of his knuckles.

Perhaps most damningly, his skin was changing color as well. What he’d first taken for paling was in fact changing from pale with a brown undertone to an ashy color.

Though he did spend probably too much time staring at himself in the mirror, he mostly tried to distract himself with his reading and learning to build furniture. There were spells for cutting wood and spells for fusing it together. The muggles might measure twice and cut once but wizards just put the wood back together again if they cut in the wrong spot. That spell was also used to turn a bunch of short lengths of wood into solid pieces as though the whole thing was carved of a single piece of wood.

It was really cool.

His work was basic, but after a few tries, he was able to make a bassinet that was sturdy and functional. Best of all, with these spells, he’d be able to take it apart and change it if necessary. The spells didn’t diminish the raw materials at all, so he was able to use and reuse them as many times as he wanted. Aging, weathering, cracking, termites, and things like that would degrade the quality of the wood, but just using these woodworking spells did not.

It was surprisingly fun and once he’d made the bassinet, Harry made a better perch for Hedwig. Then he canceled the transfiguration on the chair she’d been using, and he took apart the chair and made it again. The wood was still somewhat weathered, but the chair was sturdy now. After that, he fixed his other chair so the two matched.

Then he did the kitchen table.

Then his bed frame.

Then he made himself another kitchen counter with built-in cabinets, using the steel he’d bought for hinges. Then he remade his original kitchen counter/cabinets to match.

Then he ran out of wood.

Two days later, he ventured out of the flat again. He was still sick with anxiety about going out in public looking like he did. Even knowing how many creatures walked the streets of Knockturn after dark, he knew that reptilian creatures were rare.

And he’d never liked standing out.

He stopped first for more food because he was getting low if not entirely out of some things he considered necessity. Like red meat. Breakfasts of toast had recently become a thing of the past. He was sure it was related to his creature coming to the fore, but he’d developed a very strong craving for red meat with every meal. Preferably cooked rare.

He wasn’t starting to dislike any other food, so he didn’t think he was becoming a carnivore or something. He just needed more meat than he used to.

Blessedly, the butcher seemed well versed in creature diets because he didn’t look at all disturbed or even surprised by just how much red meat Harry was buying.

Once he was done with that, Harry returned to Raw Materials. Not only was the woodworking a phenomenal distraction from everything that was freaking him out, but he’d found that he _really_ enjoyed it. He’d never had a chance to properly _make_ something before. Not something with a purpose. Not something real.

He was going to make himself a new bathtub next. The one he had was deep, but not very long. He wanted something he could stretch out in. He was even going to put a seat in it so he could sit more comfortably.

He bought a _lot_ of wood this time and was really impressed when it all fit into the bag without him having to shrink it. The shopkeeper seemed to be impressed too, which Harry thought was a better estimation of how well the charmed bag worked because Harry still didn’t know all that much about what was normal in the wizarding world.

With that in mind, he stopped again by the bookshop. His hood was up, but he knew now just how much that didn’t matter. What had been a deep, concealing shadow to his human eyes provided no impediment to his newly improved eyes. He strongly suspected that it provided no greater impediment to the drake or most of the other species gifted with slit pupils.

He spent about an hour browsing the bookshop and checked out with another half dozen books. He hadn’t finished the ones he’d bought last time just yet, but he knew that he wanted to learn more about working with metal and other materials. And he really wanted to learn more about attaching spells to things to give them magical properties. He’d learned that that was called enchantment from a brief aside in his DIY book. It didn’t go into that at all but mentioned that enchantments could be added to the furniture and the best places to conceal runes. Knowing what it was called, he was able to find a book called _Introduction to Enchantment_. He also got a book on apparation. He should have learned that in school this year. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it legally without a license, but he wanted to know, even if he saved using it for an emergency.

Harry spent most of the next week building his new bathtub. It turned out great, and thankfully didn’t leak, though it did take up half his bathroom. He disassembled the old one for materials. The wood wasn’t in pristine condition, but it could still work well for a lot of stuff.

Enchantment did turn out to be really complex, but the introduction book made it seem possible to learn. They had lots of super basic enchantments that one could start with and how to combine them for more advanced effects. Harry knew that he’d never have been able to memorize lengthy charts, but he could learn a bit at a time if it was something he could use.

He was, for example, able to scratch a pair of runes into the water bowl in his bathroom. One at the bottom of the bowl, and one near the top. Together, they worked to keep the bowl always full of water. Right now, it was room temperature water unless he used warming or cooling charms and the only way to freshen it when it was dirty was to vanish the contents and let it refill, but it was still pretty cool.

What he’d really like to learn how to do would be to charm a faucet with no plumbing attached so that it worked like a normal faucet. That’d be so handy. It could be used wherever without worrying about running plumbing. And drains were easy to take care of if you could enchant like a vanishing charm into it.

All of that stuff was still way beyond his comprehension, but he wanted to learn it. He really liked the idea of being able to do all of this himself. With enough knowledge of magic, he could easily make a life for himself literally anywhere.

Given that he was Harry Potter, and soon to be a single dad, he thought it was really important that he not have to rely on anything but his own knowledge and magic. It could very well end up being all he had if they had to go on the run.

Those thoughts sent him back to the bookstore where he purchased a full dozen books on enchanting, runes and arithmancy, which were necessary for enchantment, basically, all his the subjects he’d taken at Hogwarts minus divination, crafting with various different materials, and one book on identifying safe things to eat in the wilderness.

The full moon fell on July 30th, so Harry made a point to stay in on that night. The next night, of course, was his birthday.

Just before midnight, as was their tradition, Hedwig swept in through the window above the door and landed herself in the middle of the kitchen table with her package. Thankfully, the table had been clear.

Harry roused himself from where he’d been spending some quality time with his eggs, quietly reading to them from one of his books. The content wasn’t anything kids would find interesting, but he figured it was more about the tone of his voice right now. He’d placed them in his lap on one of their soft blankets and let them share in his warmth. Now he carefully moved them to the middle of his bed and went to see what Hedwig had brought.

There was just a single package, which wasn’t surprising. She couldn’t really go pick up from Ron and Hermione while she didn’t look like herself, and no owl sent to Harry Potter would find him at all. He untied the package and she gave his hand an affectionate nibble before taking wing back to her perch, availing herself of the water and food bowls attached to it.

Knowing the package must be from the twins, Harry took his time opening it, but nothing exploded at him, thankfully.

He looked at the note first, in case there were like special opening instructions or something. One could never be too careful when dealing with professional pranksters.

> _Our Dearest Tom,_
> 
> _Please accept our most heartfelt wishes on this, the day of your distinguished birth. Your owl looks gorgeous, by the way. We told her so as well, which seemed to improve her mood._
> 
> _Enclosed, you will find a number of free samples of our products, including our backroom stock, which is new this month. Remember those shield hats we were working on? Well, they were a big hit, though not quite the way they were intended. They were meant to be a gag, you know, challenge your friend to jinx you, then watch as it bounces off without even drawing you wand? Turns out, many people in the ministry can_ _’t manage to cast a shield charm and they bought up all our stock straight away, for protection, of all things._
> 
> _Anyway, that led us to making a line of more serious products. We keep them in the back room so as not to depress anyone. Not that the war_ _’s been all that noticeable just yet. Mind you, even Fudge is admitting that ol’ snakeface is back. There’s just not been much sign of him. Yeah, he broke his followers out of Azkaban, but no one’s seen them either._
> 
> _On to more important matters, Dumbledore_ _’s trying to turn over every rock in Britain looking for you. They couldn’t find any sign in the London area so Dumbledore’s convinced you’re hiding in the muggle world and they’re focusing their search there. Mum’s losing her mind with worry that you’re starving to death. Ron keeps swinging between worried about you and angry that you’d leave without telling him. Hermione goes between worrying and preparing her lectures for in case you’re found. She’s convinced you’re just being reckless. We don’t see Remus much. After you withdrew from Hogwarts, he went to search for you straight away and, as far as we know, that’s pretty much all he’s done since._
> 
> _Most of the Order is both worried and irritated that you_ _’d run off and put them all through this. Don’t worry about any of them, mate. You’ve got more important concerns._
> 
> _Also, strange thing happened this morning. Shortly after we opened the shop, in comes none other than the Dungeon Bat himself. Yep, ol_ _’ Snape just walking right in like he doesn’t hate everything our shop stands for. So he pulls me aside — Fred stayed to watch the shop — and he gives me a letter addressed to you. He tells me that he doesn’t care whether or not we know anything about where you are. Just that we should get that letter to you. Then he leaves._
> 
> _So we spent most of the day checking it for tracking spells, activatable portkeys, potions, curses, and everything else we could think of. The only magic on it is a spell to ensure only you can read it and a spell that will destroy it ten minutes after you open it — or instantly if anyone else gets it open. Incidentally, that was the first time we_ _’ve ever seen such a spell and we’re fully intent on stealing it to use on our products. Nonetheless, memorize it fast, yeah?_
> 
> _George and Fred Weasley._

Blinking in shock at the letter, Harry slowly folded it back up and set it aside.

He took a moment to glance back at his eggs, but found they were right where he’d left them. He wanted to go sit with them, but not until he’d opened the letter from Snape. Just in case it wasn’t as safe as the twins thought.

Not that he didn’t trust their spellwork, just… He wasn’t taking any chances with the eggs getting hurt.

He didn’t see any other letter, so he carefully opened the package. It was a well-made wooden box with each product inside carefully packed in their own fitted hole. Probably the only way to pack them without risking an explosion.

There was also another letter in there. This one bearing his name — old name — in Snape’s unmistakable scrawl.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Harry checked the time on his wall clock, then opened the letter.

> _Potter,_
> 
> _I am writing this letter in the hope that my suspicion about the Weasley Twins_ _’ lack of proper concern for your disappearance is in fact because they know where you are. They are talented actors and have managed to fool most of the Order, but not me._
> 
> _I know that you have no reason to trust me, Potter, but I am writing to tell you that, wherever you are, stay there. Whatever you are doing, keep doing it. Neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord have had any success in tracking you. I don_ _’t know why you decided to disappear, but I do believe it is your best chance of surviving._
> 
> _No doubt you wonder why I would care. I will say only that, while I detested your father, I cared a great deal for your mother. It is for her that I wish to keep you alive._
> 
> _Albus is searching the muggle world for any sign of you, but with almost no one in the order with any understanding of the muggle world, their efforts have been slow and ineffective. The Dark Lord searched for you for almost two weeks. When it became apparent that you were well hidden, he called off the search. He has instructed the Death Eaters that so long as you remain out of the public eye and out of the fighting, you no longer matter. Do not let that hurt your pride, Potter. That is your best chance of living. If you are not publicly opposing him or joining the fighting, you are safe._
> 
> _I do not know the cause, but the Dark Lord_ _’s mind has been more settled this summer. His actions more rational. I believe he will stand by his decision with regard to you._
> 
> _Do not trust Dumbledore. He does not intend for you to survive your next encounter with the Dark Lord._
> 
> _Severus Snape_

“Merlin,” Harry breathed, not sure what to think. With a start, he remembered that he only had ten minutes and quickly summoned parchment and a fountain pen and began scribbling down a copy. He managed to finish it just before the original dissolved into dust.

Merlin, that was a neat spell.

Shaking his admiration, he turned to the copy. He’d left off the open and close. If it ever was found, he didn’t want Snape’s name attached to it.

Now, he just had to figure out why the hell Snape would be writing him to warn him. Dumbledore definitely wouldn’t want him to know this.

Voldemort might, though, he realized. Oh, it was possible that what he’d said about caring about Harry’s mum was accurate, but it was just too hard to wrap his mind around the idea that Snape might just want to keep him alive.

It was also possible that Snape was really loyal to Voldemort — as Harry had long suspected — and he’d sent this on Voldemort’s order. If the man really just wanted to wash his hands of him, wouldn’t it make sense that he’d tell Harry, “Hey, stay disappeared and I won’t have to make it permanent the hard way!” or something like that. Given all the trouble he’d historically had trying to kill Harry, this must sound like the easy way, right?

Harry sighed heavily and used a housekeeping spell to vanish the dust that Snape’s letter had become. Then he took his copy and folded it up and stuck it into a random book on his bookshelf. He’d find a better hiding place later. Or maybe he’d build a secret compartment under the cabinet or something for such things.

Not that he expected Snape to be sending him more, but one never knew when a secret hiding spot would come in handy.

Speaking of, a panic room might not be a bad idea if he ever got the hang of undetectably enlarging spaces.

Well, that was something he could worry about later when he had the skill to try it.

For now, he didn’t know what to do except take Snape’s advice and keep his head down. If there was one bonus to his changing appearance it was that the odds of him being recognized were falling drastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd thought this chapter was done, then as I was reading through it again and editing, I decided that I hated the ending. So I chopped off the last 1,000 words and then added 2,000 new ones. So this chapter got a little longer, but _I think_ a lot better. I decided to go with the correspondence to convey what was going on with everyone else.


	4. Chapter 4

**8 August**

Harry slowly clenched and unclenched his fist, turning his hand about as he examined his still-changing form. He’d made only a couple trips out in the last week and a half since his birthday and they’d been as brief as he could make them. His eyesight was unbelievable in the dark now. He never really felt the burden of the dark anymore. His skin had continued to change from a pale, ashy color to a darker gray ashy color and the areas with scales were a bit darker than the rest.

The scales were spreading as well. Thick bands of them ran up his sides and thickened over his elbows and knees as well as his finger and toe joints. The bottom of his feet were covered in scales and tougher than they’d been with skin. He suspected he’d be better suited to walking around without shoes now, but he wasn’t eager to try it in Knockturn. As for his hands, the pads of his fingers and his palms remained soft, but his knuckles and the backs of his hands were mostly covered in scales. His fingernails and toenails were thickening.

His pupils were very obviously slit now in any amount of light that would have allowed him to even see them with his mere human vision.

He didn’t look very human anymore, despite the fact he still mostly looked like himself. If you could look past the coloring and scales and slit pupils.

He wasn’t ashamed of being a creature. It’s not like it was his fault and it’s not like it made him less than anyone else. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

He just hated being stared at.

He supposed this must be Fate’s joke at his life. First he’s a celebrity entirely beyond his control, then a rare and visually stunning creature. He would never be free of stares.

As he always did when he began feeling down, he looked to his eggs, lightly brushing them with his fingers. He smiled when one of them moved a bit under his caress. The egg rocked slightly in place with the movement. The little guys were growing so fast inside. They already seemed to fill the shells so much.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to each egg. They had a way of putting things in perspective. It was hard to get too worked up about all the bad things when he had these two amazing little beings in his life. They were worth everything and more.

Tucking them carefully inside his bag in their padded nest that he used to take them everywhere with him, he took a bracing breath, and let himself out of his flat.

He smiled a little at the night in Knockturn. It had always been so alive, but much more so now with his heightened sight and hearing. The lights that had seemed dim and left so many intimidating shadows to his human eyes now seemed to provide plenty of light to see and feel safe. Conversations had in whispers and murmurs no longer seemed potentially ominous as he could now make out what mostly sounded like shop talk and gossip if he cared to pay attention.

He just wished his creature was something furry so he could blend in here, but he knew he’d be much more out of place on Diagon Alley. He hadn’t been even near the mainstream alley since his brief trip to Gringotts to pay his rent and even that had been at night. Happily, the bank never closed, likely catering to less diurnal customers.

Harry noticed that he got a few curious looks from other residents, no one stared too much and he relaxed a little. Somehow, every time he spent a few days in his flat and his appearance changed further, he always thought that _this_ would be the time people really noticed and fussed over it.

But, he supposed, there was a prominent bookshop not far away that was run by a drake who didn’t even try to conceal his appearance. Presumably he went outside like that as well, so Harry couldn’t look _too_ surprising to the locals.

He did feel retroactively rotten for staring at the drake that first day, but the man hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge too long. Now that Harry was obviously a creature and a reptilian one at that, the man had softened toward him considerably. Harry got companionable nods now, though still no conversation beyond the necessary exchange involved in purchasing from him.

Today, Harry offered smiles to some of the nicer vendors as he bought the next week’s supply of food, stopping from time to time to see what else was on offer. The shops in Knockturn were a combination of proper shops in buildings spaced across all the levels of the alley and then stalls set up in front of various shops selling many different things. Some were on the ground level, some sold off balconies connected to the bridges and pathways that ran between the buildings above the street.

Harry didn’t buy much that wasn’t needed as he was trying to conserve his money, but sometimes he couldn’t resist an adorable baby blanket or plushie or even baby clothes despite the fact he didn’t even know that his babies would be the proper form to wear clothes. If he was naga, as he suspected, his babies should have a human form and a snake form. Or, well, human _ish_ like him. He wasn’t entirely sure if they’d be able to change forms right away though. For all he knew, they’d be snakes until puberty. And then he’d feel pretty silly for those cute baby clothes.

He did wonder sometimes if naga had the in-between form like in myth. The man with the lower half of a snake. Perhaps it was just fancy. Or perhaps it was just something they didn’t show outsiders enough for it to be common knowledge.

So far, he hadn’t even managed to change into a snake, so he wasn’t worrying too much about it. He thought he’d likely have to finish his transition into _this_ form before he could try to get other forms.

It was while he was smiling at a kind old lady selling fresh fruit that he noticed an abrupt shift in the atmosphere of the alley. It was a general quieting combined with quite a few people slipping unobtrusively into buildings or up the pathways or down side streets.

Harry felt a chill climb up his spine as he glanced in the direction that everyone seemed to be moving away from and he found himself meeting the uneven stare of none other than Mad-eye Moody.

For a second, he hoped he wouldn’t be recognized given his changed look and his cloak hiding his features and the general darkness, but his hopes were dashed when the magical eye settled on him, almost immediately followed by the real eye widening with recognition.

Harry had just enough time to firmly think, _Fuck_ , and then he turned and ran for it.

“Potter!” Moody shouted after him and curse it all, there went his anonymity.

Harry kept running. If he’d run away only because of his transformation, he might have let himself be caught and see what Dumbledore would do. He didn’t really think the man would hurt him, after all. Not deliberately, at least. Or directly.

That, of course, was not the case though. He’d run away because he didn’t trust that his eggs wouldn’t be hurt or taken from him and that was still very much a thing he feared.

The bright red light of a stunner flew past him, missing his shoulder by such a narrow margin, he actually felt the magic of it sting against his skin. A brief mental image of him collapsing under a stunner and landing right on his eggs had him putting on an extra burst of speed until he was absolutely certain he was moving faster than a human ever could without the aid of magic.

He verily flew through the night, creatures and humans alike shouting and dodging away from the stunners flying by him. Now that he was prepared for it, Harry could feel them coming and he was able to alter his path just enough for every one to miss him.

He launched himself up the steps to his flat and threw a locking charm at the door before immediately using a packing spell to begin sending his things into the charmed bag he’d gotten from the twins, which he’d just been using for his shopping. He focused on his books and the things for his eggs that would fit in the bag. He didn’t have time to shrink things down.

He could hear the uneven clank of Moody running up the steps outside and he knew that he was out of time. He threw a powerful reductor at the beautiful bassinet he’d made for his babies, hoping Moody wouldn’t figure out what it was and draw the obvious conclusions. The less the Order knew about his babies, the happier he would be.

Finally, he closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could. He’d never actually apparated before, not having a license and not wanting to risk getting caught, but he’d studied the theory like the lives of his eggs depended on it.

He could only pray he wasn’t about the splinch the three of them.

The sound of the door being blasted open snapped Harry’s eyes open and he met Moody’s stare again halfway through his twist.

There was a crushing sensation like he was squeezing through a too-small tube and then it was over and he was somewhere else. He quickly did a mental exam of his body and found his limbs intact and nothing in pain. He then turned his focus outward. He was in the play park behind his old grammar school. He honestly didn’t know that many places. He’d never really been anywhere besides Hogwarts and Privet Drive. Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and King’s Cross would have been too exposed to risk apparating to.

There was no one within sight, but he remembered the twins mentioning that there had been Order members watching him with invisibility cloaks, which he still found incredibly unsettling. Especially that they’d do it without even telling him about it. He had no idea if they were still watching the Dursley house now he was gone, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Harry spent a few precious moments fetching his invisibility cloak from where it always resided in the same bag that carried his eggs. He fastened it over his black cloak, then carefully cradled the bag with his eggs between his chest and one arm and set off at a run again. It was somewhere close to midnight at this point, but he hoped that he could find a train going anywhere but London.

He ran the entire way there, trying to feel for the magic of any pursuers rather than risk slowing down to look behind him. He didn’t feel anything by the time he reached the station, at which point he realized that he looked like a circus freak and not only may they not sell him a ticket, even if they did, tracking him would be pathetically easy because people definitely wouldn’t forget having seen him.

With that in mind, he left the invisibility cloak in place and sneaked onto the next train, which was scheduled to leave within minutes.

He spent a long time just breathing as the train left the station, and he felt safe enough for the time being.

He drew his eggs out of his bag and held them in his lap under the cloak, just softly stroking them and reassuring himself that he’d not splinched them when he apparated or otherwise harmed them with his running. They seemed unsettled, moving a lot and kind of jerkily. After a while of caressing them and calming himself, they seemed to calm as well and eventually went still, which he thought meant they were sleeping.

Once he was sure they’d be fine, he found himself fighting off tears of sheer reaction to the fear and adrenaline of his flight. Merlin, Moody was nuts. Had Dumbledore told the Order to bring him in by any means necessary or was Moody just staying true to form and being extra diligent?

Eventually, he managed to turn his mind to what came next.

He couldn’t go back to Knockturn. They’d be looking for him there now. They knew what he looked like, which meant he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. Naga were just too rare. The smallest whisper of one and they’d probably go looking.

That left him with… what? He could try to live on the street or squat somewhere, but he’d still have to buy food. He’d still have to interact with people to some degree unless he only left under his cloak and stole everything.

The only feasible option he could see was to find a decent sized bit of wilderness somewhere and just live there. He’d have to try to hunt and gather all of his food, though maybe he could find somewhere to steal some seeds and plant a garden next year.

He needed a lot of meat in his diet though and the eggs would very likely need a lot of it when they hatched. Then again, he had a wand. Surely hunting couldn’t be that hard with a wand and invisibility cloak and that, right?

He did have a couple of books on what to eat in the wild and how to build temporary and permanent shelters. He’d bought them from what had seemed pure paranoia — a sort of worst-case possibility.

Turns out it’s really not paranoia when they’re actually out to get you.

Harry just wished he’d have been paranoid enough to stock up with a tent and such, but he hadn’t honestly got that far in his fears. He hadn’t really expected to be found. Not after the first few weeks. He’d changed so much physically that he didn’t imagine anyone else could have recognized him. Damn Moody and that eye! He’d probably looked right through his cloak and hair and saw the scar on his forehead.

With a rough idea of a destination in mind, Harry changed trains a few times and then boarded a bus heading north overnight. He dozed in the back of the sparsely populated bus through the night.

When morning came, he rummaged through his bag for some of the food he’d purchased before running into Moody. He cobbled together a dry sandwich of ham and swiss on the rye bread he’d bought — thankfully pre-sliced — and washed it down with awkward sips from the jug of apple juice. This was all made extra complicated by the invisibility cloak draped over him and the bag containing his eggs on his lap, but he couldn’t do anything about either of those facts, so he made do.

Before noon, Harry exited the bus somewhere in the middle of the Lake District. He didn’t know a lot about the area but that it was supposed to be scenic with lots of lakes. The Dursleys had gone there on holiday before — not that they’d taken him.

As soon as he stepped off the bus, he felt convinced that he’d come to the right place. Even in the middle of the little tourist town, something about this felt _right_.

He meandered a little bit, trying to figure out what direction to take. Eventually, he cautiously headed west, the direction that _felt_ right. He wasn’t sure if it was his magic or his creature instincts or what, but something was telling him that he was going the right way.

Despite the general awfulness of his situation, there was something incredibly peaceful about the area. Maybe it was just his newly heightened senses responding to being out of highly populated areas for the first time. Damp earth and rotting leaves filled the air beneath the boughs of the trees. The gentle breeze carried scents of water and flowers. His sensitive ears picked up the sounds of birds and squirrels and rustling leaves, all sounds of people far removed.

He relaxed increasingly as he walked until he could almost forget how screwed he actually was.

After a few hours of walking, he sat down with his back against a tree and fixed himself another sandwich. He settled his eggs in his lap while he ate, thoughtlessly stroking the soft shells as he basked in the sounds and smells of the forest.

He’d never spent much time in the woods before. Excluding the forbidden forest, which was the opposite of relaxing. He wondered if his calm here had something to do with his creature instincts.

When he was finished eating, he returned to walking. He didn’t actually know what he was looking for. It was like… a scent he couldn’t quite place on the air. Something that told him there was something to find out here.

By the time his stomach told him it was time to eat again, Harry had concluded that he had to be in a magically concealed forest. There was just no way there was _this much_ uninhabited forest in England. He must have walked twenty kilometers and seen not so much as a dirt road or hunting cabin. Perhaps that was what had drawn him here. It was surely a magical area. He knew that he hadn’t imaged the bowtruckles he’d seen a couple hours back. And he was pretty sure there was a pair of fairies following him. He’d caught the slight glow of their magic in the corner of his eye a couple times, and occasionally a high-pitched laugh. They were curious, but generally harmless creatures if his Care of Magical Creatures class was to be believed, so he wasn’t worried about them.

He realized that it was going to be dark soon, then immediately realized that that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep going if he wanted. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see perfectly well in the dark. He was exhausted after the day of walking though, and a light drizzle was beginning to filter through the canopy.

He found an area with a few trees close together and strung a sheet between them with sticking charms. He then made it impervious and settled down beneath it, a bath towel provided some protection from sharp protrusions on the ground. He wrapped his quilt around himself and curled around his bag, his eggs nested on top of it.

Despite his fears, the physical and mental exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours had him asleep in no time.

* * *

*** * * * ***

* * *

It was still dark when he woke, but he felt rested enough. With a yawn and a stretch, he pulled himself up and packed up his little camp. He then made another sandwich, very grateful that he’d just bought food before all of this. He tended to buy at least a week’s supply, so he was sitting okay for the moment. Granted, he didn’t have a week’s worth of sandwiches. He could have about four or five more meals like this and then he was going to have to get more creative. Maybe build a fire and pull out his pot and make a stew or something.

At least he had his wand and the ability to do magic. He had an unlimited supply of water and the ability to clean and sanitize all of his belongings.

He caught the scent just as the sun was cresting the horizon. Wood smoke and cooking food. People. Creatures, really. A lot of them.

Lots of smells that didn’t belong in the middle of a forest, but rather a village. But one without muggle cars and such because he couldn’t smell that. He wondered if this was what Hogsmeade would smell like with his new senses, but he knew that he was smelling a lot of different creatures.

He proceeded cautiously, moving toward the smells. He had no idea if these people were welcoming of outsiders, but he felt like this is what he’d been looking for without even knowing it.

And then, finally, he stepped through the wards and his eyes and ears were able to detect what his nose had been telling him for the last half hour.

It was definitely a village. And one without muggle influences. The buildings all looked the sort one might find in Hogsmeade. Like they were built by hand with what materials were around, cobbled together with stone and logs, roofs made of thatch or sometimes boards.

He didn’t make it very far before a group of small, giggling children came sprinting between a pair of buildings and stopped short at the sight of him.

He looked on them with a bit of wonder. Most of the kids looked normal enough but one of them had bright red skin and a pair of reptilian wings protruding from her back. And a tail tipped with a few small spikes of bone. She was covered in scales and had sharp claws rather than fingernails. She looked just as surprised to see him, but after a moment, she flashed him a wide smile full of very sharp teeth.

None of the children seemed the smallest bit uncomfortable with her.

“Grace, what did I say about wandering off!” a woman’s chiding voice followed the children a moment before she appeared between the trees. She also pulled up short at the sight of Harry, but after a moment, she smiled. Her teeth were a bit too sharp, her pupils slit within large gray irises, and she smelled like a big cat, but otherwise appeared human. “Oh, hello,” she greeted him, shooing the children back the way she’d come with an admonition to go with Marcus. “I’m Serenity. Are you new to the village?”

“Yes,” he admitted uncertainly, holding his bag against his chest. “I didn’t even know it was here.”

Her smile was understanding, “It was the same for me the first time. There’s a magic about the wards. It’s as old as the village itself. It’s a gentle repellent for humans, but it calls to creatures. Believe me, you’re far from the first to just wander in. Come on, I’ll bring you to the mayor.”

Harry relaxed considerably at her words. It explained that strange feeling he’d had that he was going the right way even though he hadn’t known what he was trying to find. And it seemed that they were welcoming of outsiders.

At least creature outsiders.

He followed the woman back between the houses, his eyes widening as they came to the edge of a small field of what looked like wheat followed by what he thought might be corn. Buildings that seemed a combination of houses and businesses began to appear in greater number, interspersed with small wooded areas and large vegetable gardens.

It wasn’t huge, he noted as they moved down one wide, dusty path that probably passed for a street. It certainly wasn’t a city or even a town, but it was more than a dozen or so buildings. It was a real community.

It wasn’t long before they came upon a large, open grassy area. In the center of it was an absolutely beautiful building made of carved and laid white stone and stained glass that was much fancier than any other building he’d seen in the village. The roof of it was made of tiles and it was elevated several steps above the ground. From two opposite corners, large spouts poured a continuous gout of water that formed a stream running away through the grassy area and between the buildings.

The kids he’d seen were now playing some kind of game on the grass that seemed to involve a lot of chasing each other and squealing in laughter. Another adult seemed to be minding them, a young man who looked human.

They passed an apothecary and approached one of the more stately looking houses. It’s first floor seemed made of stone with the second floor being wood. There was a broad wooden porch out front. Serenity led him onto the porch and inside without knocking.

He followed her into a large sitting room with a fireplace against one wall, a collection of chairs in a couple clumps surrounding little tables, and a stately desk with three chairs in front of it. An older man with huge, gray-feathered wings sat behind the desk looking through a stack of papers. He lifted his eyes at their entrance and smiled warmly. “Serenity. What have you brought me, my dear?” he asked pleasantly.

“Newcomer,” she tipped her head at Harry. “I gotta get back. I left Marcus with the class.”

He gave a dismissive wave and she turned back for the door, granting Harry a small smile before closing the door behind her.

Harry nervously focused on the man that he assumed was probably the mayor. He was tall and broad and had a sort of in-charge look about him. Like he just knew people would pay attention when he spoke. “Hello, sir,” Harry greeted nervously.

The man smiled at him, “You can call me Rich, son. We’re pretty informal around here. Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll have a chat,” he stood and motioned toward one of the clusters of chairs rather than those in front of his desk.

Harry nervously sat and Rich took the seat across from him. The man had salt-and-pepper hair, Harry noted, and intelligent brown eyes with most of the visible eye covered in iris and a pupil far too large for the well-lit room.

“Welcome to Haven,” he said first. “As you may have guessed, we’re a village populated by those the Ministry distrusts and disdains. You’ll find all manner of land-dwelling creatures here. Some squibs, too. We don’t tolerate any kind of discrimination in our village. Those who find that too difficult will find themselves permanently banished from our wards.” He gave Harry a firm look, but didn’t honestly seem too concerned about it. Harry didn’t imagine there were too many creatures who were prejudice against anyone except maybe the witches and wizards that made hated and feared them.

“So what do I call you?” Rich asked.

“Tom,” Harry admitted, thinking that it might be a good idea to drop the last name entirely or find a new one. Surely Moody would interrogate his landlord and discover the name he was using. He hoped it wouldn’t be enough for them to find him, but he honestly doubted it. Knowing the person you were tracking was an important part of the spells and he thought he’d changed enough physically and mentally that they’d find that difficult.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. Did you come alone?” he asked neutrally.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, then rethought the truth of that. “Well, me and my eggs,” he said uncomfortably, hugging his bag to him a little.

Rich smiled broadly in response. “Ah, congratulations. We have quite a number of children here and even a school for the simple things — reading, writing, maths, a bit of wandless magic. We have a healer and a priestess as well. Most folk in the village either have a trade or help with the food production. Plenty of the locals don’t mind taking on apprentices if you’re looking to learn. Do you have any particular skills? Education?”

“Er… Well, I’m decent with woodworking. And I’ve got my OWLs.”

Rich looked impressed, “You must have recently come by your inheritance then.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, privately disgusted that a basic education was beyond those born with obvious creature traits.

“Well, we don’t have any open houses,” Rich went on. “The village is slowly growing, so when we do have deaths, the vacant homes are usually filled quickly enough. Mostly newcomers build their own houses, though of course there’s plenty of locals that are willing to offer their help and expertise. Have you got a wand?”

“I do,” Harry confirmed.

“Well, that’ll make you a valuable member of the community together with your education. Something as simple as a levitation charm can find you regular employment around here. And if you make anything you can’t sell in the village, Jonathan runs a trading post. He’s a werewolf, but he was turned later in life so he’s got a full education and a wand and he’s good at passing in the wizarding world. He takes the things we make here that we don’t need and sells them among the wizards, then buys things we use here but don’t make and brings them back to sell here. He’s got slips to remotely get funds out of Gringotts if you need, though there’s a small fee for it.

“As to a place to stay until you can build a house, there’s a pub just off the square here that has rooms to let. They’re not much. We don’t get all that much for visitors here, but they get use when someone new comes ‘round. They’re not too expensive and I’m sure someone in town could use an extra hand that would probably earn you plenty to pay for it.”

“I have a bit of money,” Harry admitted. It wasn’t a great deal, but it should hold him over fine until he could get his own house. Thinking of that was kind of exciting, really. He’d learned to enjoy building his own furniture. He thought it might be really great to build his own house.

“You’re sitting better than a lot of folks come through here then,” Rich concluded. He stood then, “Well, let’s go get you settled then and I can set up an introduction with some folks that can help you get started on your house.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agreed nervously as he stood. He’d gotten so accustomed to hiding even on Knockturn Alley, always expecting the worst should anyone see his face… And now he was in a village filled with creatures and no bigots. It was a little surreal. But in a good way.

Feeling cautiously hopeful, Harry followed the mayor back out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I can't believe I haven't updated this since December. I've been working on it on and off constantly so it didn't feel that long to me. Man did this chapter fight me though. I actually wrote about three different versions and even more attempts with the plot before I settled on this. It's a little on the short side compared to the previous chapters, but it's progress, so I'll take it.
> 
> On the bright side! Chapter 5 is about 75% done already, so hopefully another chapter in less than 9 months. That'd be nice, huh?


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